The Man Who Planted Trees

We recently went to a unique play done by the Puppet State Theater Company of Scotland.

The Man Who Planted Trees is based on a children's book of the same title, and while not a true tale, you wish it was. Essentially, it is the biography of a man whose mission is to reforest an area by personally planting each seed, with no other motive than just doing what needs to be done.

This 2-man (and minimal puppets) show masterfully and repeatedly broke through the fourth wall at the onset continuing intermittently throughout the performance to an audience of 307 school children & chaperons. An adept actor took us unnoticeably from a witty repartee with Dog his real name), to the subtle narration of his hut's host, then bridge to the next scene. With the aid of Dog playing the straight man, each participant was immediately drawn in by not only the punch lines, but also the expert timing as we all awaited what we delightfully knew was coming.

With muted palette for both background and costumes, a tone was immediately set for this thought-provoking and unconventional hero's story. By its  contrast, the colorful birds swinging above, wafting scents of a lavender field, and actual spritzing of a forest's rain left all us literally reaching for more.

Habit Cards for the Refined

I got the idea from Our Learning Journey: A Journal for habit cards made with images from works of art and laminated.
If I were really cool, I'd have mine up on Google docs too. But i don't. Maybe someday.

So I scoured the Internet for pictures our family would like, my thinking being that if it's something we like to look at, we'll look at it...more.

So, the first day they were up the kids were very interested in reading the artist and titles. I still am.

Albrecht Durer was someone we had studied, and his detailed Praying Hands work perfectly here. Personally, I love his Rhinoceros more, but couldn't find a way to fit it into our day...

The Last of the Mohicans by N.C. Wyeth was a family favorite because we are part Mohawk (but those of us over 2 don't normally dress like this.)

Vincent Van Gogh makes a tidy Bedroom at Arles--even if his life was not.

We had recently read a children's version of Hamlet and found Ophelia's imminent death hilarious when paired with personal grooming. (insert carefree humming) And I wanted a Waterhouse...that wasn't topless.

Cezanne's Still Life with Compotier is a skewed and disheveled table--not still at all-- and appropriately, needing clean up.

The Wreck of the Covenant by N.C. Wyeth (from Kidnapped) makes bathing seem a delightful option, especially if you are recently shipwrecked.



Jessie Wilcox Smith of course, found her way into the mix more than once.

"But why do you have the Mona Lisa for 'Brush Teeth', mom? She isn't showing any teeth."

"And why not?...Because she didn't brush them and they look terrible--Let that be a lesson to you!"

In-A-Godda-Da-Vidda, Baby

 

"An expectant hush fellover the crowd. Strong men stared and shook their heads in wonderment that any rational person would so tempt fate as to eat something everyone knw was poisonous. Women held their breath; tehy say one faitnted. A medical doctor stood by. He had already advised both the crwd and his client that this mad act would result in frothing and foaming at the mouth, acute appendicitis, brain fever, possible stomach cancer, and , in all likelihood, certian suicide. The date was September 26, 1820; the place, the courthouse steps in Salem, New Jersey; teh principal actor, the eccentric Colonel Robert Gibbon Johnson; the mad act, eating a basketful of raw tomatoes."

--from You Say Tomato, (quoted from The American Magazine and Historial Chronicle, Winter 1987-88)

Love IT. This year we planted our first garden.

Lest you think this is one of those deals on a drip system out back that I can shew the children in the general direction of for an afternoon snack--think again. This is our city's community garden. Nestled in a neighborhood that boasts it's own police outpost, cozied up against the tracks (116 cars in 8 min one day, Bowery Bird filmed it), within a padlocked, chain-linked fence--is our little haven of a garden. I know, pretty idyllic.

But it really has been. The fence means both I don't have to worry about animals and can let my children run free to make forts in the untamed areas once we are safely locked in. We've harvested much more than I thought possible from two 4x16' plots and really minimal effort aside from planting and watering. That's the nice thing about the high desert I guess--even weeds don't grow much here.

This little place has reminded me how much I love the smell of tomato plants. My parents tell of when I wasn't old enough to talk and crawled over our deck railing, and down a 7' 4x4 support to eat green tomatoes from our garden, then walk around to the front door and knock so my baffled mother could open the door and let me in.





My children, who have seen a lot more manicured lawns than I ever experienced, find it a place they can get filthy and dig and dump and let loose. I don't know who loves that more--me or them. It's a good place for us to be.

So I am pretty proud that this summer I've been able to follow-through with my first full-on garden. In all honesty, my Visiting Teacher (a.k.a. The Best Babysitter Ever, because she made root beer with my kids, took them to a pet store, told them to choose their favorite spool of ribbon to keep, and let them chase her cat) suggested I join her in doing a garden and really showed me how. She moved in August, leaving me literally to reap the rewards. She  became a friend and I truly miss her.

These are not just balloons-they are works of art!--he cried

Mr. Owl & I went to the opening reception at BYU for an exhibit of Andy Warhol and some other guy.
I had a friend who remembered his art collecting father  pulling something out from underneath the bed whenever they needed money- like an Andy Warhol silk screened shopping bag.

This was my first thought as we walked up to the BYU Museum of Art. Mr Owl's first thought was, "WOW, I shouldn't have forgot my hipster glasses and skinny jeans at home." I haven't seen such a concentration of trendy since my last Neon Trees concert at Velor. The lobby was packed. Clustered flower balloons above, and live music beneath.

Downstairs we picked out our favorite Marilyn Monroe run, admired the Man on the Moon, and smiled at the film of Nico projected on the wall. I don't do much talking...Theeese days...cough, cough.

A later visit in the mystic room of Mylar.

As I was both taking notes on trendy and vaguely wondering what those banging noises beyond were, a suited older gentleman swiftly cut through the crowd. I plucked Mr. Owl's sleeve, "Let's go watch some kids get chewed out."
We made our way to a room filled with a dozen huge Mylar balloons gently sailing up and down,  just in time to witness him march in with authority and demand, "Where are your Parents!!" to the children punching and jumping on the balloons unlucky enough to be on their way down. The parents were 3 feet away, of course, chatting. "These are not just balloons-they are works of art--paid for by an endowment!" he cried indignantly.
He was exactly right, and phrased it beautifully. How else would anyone describe an unadorned four foot Mylar balloon?
You can bet I'm going to quote him at the next--and probably every birthday party I ever attend.

"Buy my Fresh Apples"

This was the first year that a Renaissance Faire came within 2 hours of us. Considering costumes for a $2 discount, I went to help my sister find something.
"Here this doesn't match," I said, and she gave me a bewildered look.
"Match?..." she queried. Then I remembered who I was talking to.
 She blinked and realized what'd she'd naturally said then repeated "Match?!..." with a laugh that followed her down the hall.

So sans costumes, we went, finding my way to the parking lot by my sister's directions on the phone. "Turn left through the trees, over some boards--jump the curb, down a dirt road to the parking lot." And the adventure began. (Right after some rosemary bread, grapes, and string cheese.)

The place was teaming with characters and costumes.
We saw the "Jester in Polyester" ( as my sister dubbed him) which brought out giggles when I finally met him because the title was SO hideously shiny green-and-purple perfect.
 We climbed aboard a model pirate ship setting off a prerecorded sea chantey --which Kingfisher immediately memorized. My sister tried on a $150 leather bustiere which, no joke--is guaranteed for life or 150 years. Which really is quite a bargain.
A random woman dressed simply in comparison to the heavily armored, big skirted, tightly laced typicals kept wandering in and out of little crowds softly singing "Fresh Apples! Buy my fresh apples." Which--I can't help it, maybe it was all the exposed corsets walking around-- just didn't sound all that innocent.

In the Artisans Circle we saw a woman cutting out a stained glass nativity, a simple lathe work--and get repaired, a fire eater (wearing as much or little as you'd expect), and a Robin Hood-like character explained the power and workings of a long bow while his beautiful retired greyhound lounged in the
shade nearby.

 

We heard Celtic music and saw a potter's kick-wheel at work
(just after he slammed the ball of clay on, splattering mud in our eye). I missed the Lady with the Kestrel--or was it the Kestrel with the lady? But heard they were beautiful. Saw a Punch and Judy show where the puppet heads kept getting ridiculously mixed up. Saw some elegant calligraphy Bowery Bird was interested in, and other bustieres I had to tell Mockingbird she could try on over my dead body (not really).

It was a simple, but novel faire swarming with school uniforms. At the exit as I steadied myself against the waves of children and chaperons, Good Queen Bess teased a "young squire" showing off, a balloon popped,  then as the throng of people dispersed I heard softly in the distance, "Fresh Apples...Buy my Fresh apples"...a perfectly surreal ending to our day.

How Tall is Cary Grant?

 

Mr. Owl recently won himself a Guiess World Record certificate by participating in the worlds largest anonymous gift exchange through Reddit last Christmas. (He gave choclolates he got the rock music cookbook ) He also participated in teh album exchange (gave falmig lips-of cousre, got the Shins). He's pretty pleased with this.

 

I think it's pretty well known that Guiness World Records are named after the Brittish Brewery of the same name, so my jump to a drinking game shouldn't be too far. (And just like Shaun White, "I'm talking about Mountian Dews, baby.") We named it "How Tall is Cary Grant?".

 

This is a postmarked letter from my mom 10 years ago, inscribed "You handsome devil, you"--one of those witty Victorian birthday cards she digs up. And even with those screwy jail bars from the United States Postal Service--he still is. One of my favorite lines by him, "Everybody wants to be Cary Grant, even I want to be Cary Grant!" (sigh)

Mom & i were home while my sister and Father Owl went to a concert (he's such a good big brother ot her--I love him). We were watching an old movie and I started reading actor bios on line. oNe thing led to another and "How Tall is Cary Grant" became. You pick a celebrity, and guess their height before googling it. Kept us going for over an hour i think. You'd never guess--Cary Grant 6'1, Reese WItherspoon 5'1,Kate Moss 5'6 (c'mon--and she calls herself a model!) Gregory Peck 6'2" (and because of a back injury while dancing with Martha Graham's troop--couldn't enlist in WWII), Liam Neeson 6'4, Sophia Loren 5'9, Vivain Leigh 5'6, Uma Thermon 5'11 (and her mother married Timothy Leary). Of all the supermodels we googled, none were taller than me--a source of temporary supeficial pride. average female heigh in us-5'6, avg male 5'11. And Napoleon-the sourceo f th e"short man complex"--5'6; 3" taller than average male of his time (his guard's tall hats made him appear short--and his eternal quest to conquer didn't help the rumor to compensate.)

Karma Counter Starts

I signed up for freecyle in an effort to rid myself of this behemoth of a file cabinet when it wouldn't sell. The New Zealand couple that took it were so appreciative they--to my surprise--actually hugged me before they left. Strangers.
It occurred to me, maybe that's why we've benefited from so many freely given things--furniture, food, tickets, etc. It just feels good to give.


So, for fun, I thought I'd keep track for a year of all that freely goes in and out of our home. Measurable karma.

The Rules are:
Holidays & thank yous don't count (expected-gifts no, no-reason gifts yes.)
Family is OK
Found items of value count
Needed items of incredibly low cost count

The Point is not to just get stuff. The point is to better recognize how blessed I am when I am able share with others. I do believe that generosity thrown out into the the universe will come back to me--sometimes better than I could even plan.

There might be ALIENS in this...!

We are about out to watch a history film for Bowery Bird when Kingfisher starts whining
 "Awww-No! That's BORING!"
His two sisters offer that it's really not. I have to leave the room for something (I don't think it was imaginary this time).

When I get back the movie is starting and Kingfisher leans in to me with an excited,
"There might be ALIENS in it!"
I check the title : "Colonial Life for Children; French & Colonial Quebec". Pretty sure there's not, but I don't say anything.

Halfway through Kingfisher turns to Bowery Bird "There are no ALIENS in this!"
I turn to look at her. She reluctantly meets my eyes and gives me a nervous twitter, then turns back to the Iroquios involvement.
End of movie he volunteers, "There were no aliens. But it was still good." as the credits roll.

Who knows? Maybe aliens would have helped things.

Plant, Animal, Story -First Field Trips of the Year

Three days of school and 3 days of field trips within the last 2 weeks! What a way to start the year! It's kind of a tradition now to go to Thanksgiving Point on their $2 Tuesdays (vs. $8) as soon as school's in session. This is into the Secret Garden-where inevidtably someone starts looking for the swing-eveery year, and it still hasn't shown up.

The Goldfish Pond.

 

Then the Timpanogos Storytelling Festival where we, with other school groups, heard Don Davis and his terrible thing that happened on a Sunday... Outside was another tent displaying quilts and even one by Don Davis who feels the two are closely tied. There was an example of a quilt with symbols from the Underground Railroad, and a fun quilt with shelves of characters representing fairy tails that we had to fairly drag ourselves away from.

    

And then the Hogle Zoo-this was the an animal that would stand still for me.

This one wouldn't--but we had a great view of him in the new Cannery Row exhibit of polar bear, seal and black bears. They look much happier than the animals there before. We paused for a few minutes to watch a giraffe bend all-ll the way down, a foot or two from a squirrel who sat frozen holding a walnut. I honestly thought he was just a statue when my kids first pointed him out. Neither was blinking--then suddenly he scampered down the rock wall with his loot. A wonderful trip.

B.Y.U. M.O.A. is F.U.N.

I love Brigham Young University's Museum of Art. But I think I really fell in love with it the night my mom and I went and laughed till we cried at the book Unlikely Pairs in the reading room with Minerva Tiechart's murals.
But wait, it gets better. We were admiring a crackled painting of an angel and my mom wondered outloud if it was really crackled-or just looked like it. "Just touch it mom-you can tell then" (I am wicked)
--AND SHE DID!! (she is wicked-er!)
Instantly there was a security guard behind us telling her to keep "20" away from the artwork Ma'am."
"Geez, I'd think you don't know anything about art" I mumbled--getting the incredulous mom face as she feined innocence then burst out laughing at my mocking. (she is an artist)
And the security guard followed us untill they closed...
Good times, good times.

So we've been going to the BYU MOA  Adventures in Art Workshop since the beginning. It is really perfect. Geared to 4-12y/o children are led on a 30 minute guided tour of one of their new exhibits. The programs really speak to their audience by asking questions and having lots of search-and-find experiences, usually with manipulatives involved.

My kids have learned about  texture in paintings then done a rubbings of an elephant's foot, tried on an indian headdress like the portrait behind them, and made clay genie lamps after a tour all about Islam.

I love to recommend it to others but find myself looking sideways to see who's nearby first, because-while it's really great-I don't want that many people going. I mean-then there might not be space for my kids.

Summertime Girl's Sewing Group

Mockingbird embroidering a red rose on her tea towel

 

I suggested a Girl's Sewing Group to friends because

1. I wanted my 9y/o dd to learn to sew on a machine

2. I wanted her to learn from better seamstresses than I

3. I'm addicted to starting groups, let's face it.

-andt was just a fun social something for us to go to in the summer.
Three other moms and I organized  a Little Girl (with 6-8y/o's) and Big Girl (with 9-11y/o's) group. We met everyother week in the afternoon this summer, alternating houses and groups--2 moms to a group.  The 6 Big Girls did projects on the sewing machine, planned by the host house while the 3 Little Girls did hand sewing at their other host house. The Little Girl host house also baby-sat the 11 younger siblings and older brothers.

I was totally excited for our first Big Girl project and had the directions for our pennant outlined on a chalkboard.  I started to go through them and at "Step 2-trace around your template" I quietly hear behind me "I'm bleeding."
I thought it was a joke--we weren't doing anything yet.
"Yep, she's bleeding." another girl confirmed.
I turned around to see a 9y/o with a pinking rotary cutter in one hand, and a deep cut in the other. They had to have been in my home less than 10 minutes!

On another day I saw my friend jump back and I heard that 'composed mom voice' as she cleared her throat and told her daughter, "Um, the next time someone is helping you closely, you probably want to tell them when you are going to start the machine..."

...so I would recommend Safety instructions before anything else...

But by the end of the summer the Big Girls Group had made:

bookmark with raw edges

1. Cloth & ribbon bookmarks
2. 18" doll fleece sleeping bags
3. Pendant banners
4. Handmade Pillowcases with (far too many) pockets

pocketed pillowcase in progress

 

The Little Girl Group made:

1. Red-thread embroidered tea towels
2. Crocheted necklaces and bracelets
3. Bean bags/hand warmers
4. Sock-dolls with curly yarn hair and button eyes

Mockingbird's doll made of socks and baked-yarn hair

It worked really well. By the end of the 3rd project 9y/o Bowery Bird would ask to sew. I'd bring out the machine and set it up, and she would be sewing on her own before I realized it.

At the end of the summer we had a simple party and the girls displayed of their our finished projects on a table outside.

  White-tailed Kite, a friend/relative of the girls, generously gave us a full bag of gorgeous scraps for the girl's projects. Then at the party she had gift bags for each girl with more scraps and notions--her mother even made each girl a crocheted pin cushion! It really made the girls feel special to have their own supplies.



Girls going through their loot & trading pin cushions.

In fact, Mockingbird, who dragged her feet to every group meeting and grumped as she finished her projects the day before--promising to "Never sew again in my Whole Life!!" proudly took her bag home, pulled out all the pins, and buttons, and swatches--twice. Then the next morning demaded we cram her entire bag in the stroller to bring with us all the way to the park just in case she wanted to work on her new project more...

Next summer we will start with the basics (safety, sewing tools, stitches, etc. ), focus more on quality than quantity, and perhaps have the Big Girls teach the Little Girls so we are all doing the same projects--Oh, and a service project would be nice.