These sweet tiny hands have really come to life – grasping my hair when I hold him, holding tight to my shirt as he falls asleep.  And have I mentioned that he has red curly hair?  Outrageously handsome in his vest made by Kyce.

Meet my son, Mozart.  Some days, he’s Beethoven, it’s true, and you will find him grumpy and deaf.  Sometimes he dresses up in every play silk in the house, but mostly, you will find him in white tights, short pants, and lots of vests.  If you need something done, sorry, he’s too busy composing.  And he wants a violin for his birthday, please.

The week started off amazing, with the first gathering of our mother’s circle.  It was so powerful to hear how much we truly all have in common, to voice our fears and joys in a safe space together.
From there, it got crazy.  But anyhow . . . looking back, there were some truly beautiful moments.  I have loved reading your dreams, in comments and email.  Keep them coming!  I’ve continued dreaming, myself.

Sometimes the camera helps me to see them, in the moment, or looking back.  Sometimes the best we can do is to say, ok, we made it through.   So now, I’d like to do a few days of favorites, shall we?

The sight of our cat, a few hours after giving birth to four kittens, trying to stand up to eat while the kittens were still attached to her teats and hanging down.  I swear she looked at me as if to say, Seriously?  What the heck do I do now? And I thought, Sister, I wish I knew.

At the recommendation of both Tonia and my mother, I’ve been reading a Philip Yancey book, which is about people who have inspired his own faith. He begins with Dr. Martin Luther King, and says that King’s greatest gift, his most important role, was keeping people’s faith, their hope, their vision of a better world, intact against the terrible daily realities they faced. Most of us think that King’s main work was calling people to action, but I really think Yancey is right – his main work was keeping hope alive in those people who were ready to act – envisioning and holding in sacred trust the beautiful vision they had for peace and justice and brotherhood.

I have a dream . . .
These words, so simple but powerful, begin King’s famous speech – perhaps not his most eloquent speech but it is the one we remember, teach to schoolchildren, hold close to our hearts.

Yancey says, ” A prophet calls us to daily acts of obedience, regardless of personal cost, regardless of whether we feel successful or rewarded.”  Someone who holds the collective dream tightly, who can remind us constantly of the positive vision we are working towards, has the power to keep people working against tremendous odds and hardship.  It’s hard to compare our sacrifices with the sacrifice of getting violently beaten or even killed, and yet change is very hard.  Saying no to such easy conveniences that surrounds us is hard.  (And some, like the Occupy Wall St folks, are getting pepper sprayed and arrested for peaceful demonstrations.)

To me, this is where the current environmental and social justice movements are struggling.  So much focus has been put onto the negative – the bad things that will happen if we don’t change our ways, and so little attention has been paid to focusing on what we want to create instead.  We often talk about this with the young people we employ and meet – it’s not enough to be against the current state of the world; we all must decide what we are for.  We can’t lead people into a better future if we don’t have some dream of what that would look like.  Just as we need a vision before creating a business, we need a vision of what an amazing, beautiful, post-petroleum, post-corporate rule future will look and feel like.

I’d like to share some of my own dreams with you here, and more importantly, I would love for you to share yours. Share them here, share them in your own space, share them in person with family and friends and strangers.  Once we begin to share our dreams, the actions we need will be clear.  Some of my dreams are things I already have in my life, but would like others to have too; some of my dreams will probably not be realized in my lifetime, but I still dream them for the generations to come.

I dream of a world where neighbors know each other, where we share tools, knowledge, and harvests.  Where we share meals and news.

I dream of a world where families truly live together once more.  Where children learn alongside their parents, and many of them stay to continue their parents’ work.  Where generations live together.

I dream of a world where food is grown without chemicals, where we can feed our children without fear.

I dream of a world where rivers and oceans are clean enough to swim in, and fish can be caught and eaten without fear of contamination.

I dream of a world where elders are respected for the knowledge and experience, and where they pass those on to the next generations.

I dream of a world where our possessions are fewer, and treated with respect and love because we know how much time and skill they took to make, and how difficult they would be to replace.

I dream of a world where communities come together to bring in the harvest, and to gather in celebration of the seasons and the gifts we are given by the Earth.

And you?  What do you dream?

I’m a little later than usual with both of these, but it was one of those weeks.  (Have I mentioned that Gabriel has four teeth coming in?  So you can guess how well I’m sleeping, lol.)

Nonetheless, I am grateful.  Grateful for all the sunshine we’ve been soaking up.  Grateful for how my two little ones love each other so much.  Grateful that on Friday morning, when Ben left for work and Ella was totally breaking down sobbing and Gabriel began to cry, too, and I was tired from not sleeping well, and apocalypse seemed imminent, I did not freak out (this time).  I put the little man in the Ergo, put Cake on the stereo, and began to sing and do a ridiculous dance.  They both began to laugh, and soon enough, so did I.

In the garden, the garlic shoots are poking up and the hoophouse is bursting with salad greens.  Weeds, too, so Ben spent an hour or two hoeing.  We’ve mostly been starting seeds, and the hoophouse is fully planted now.  Mostly with greens, but also with a lot of kale, a bed of early carrots, some early beets, and some early potatoes.  A vole kept eating the peas I planted, so I gave up and replanted them outside.  I need to plant some more.  At the bakery, Ella and I planted peas and flowers in the planters outside.  I’d like to add more sunflower seeds and wheat seeds, also.

This week, we’ll move the raspberry canes (they’re currently in the middle of one of our garden spaces, and we want to spread them out along the fenceline, where they’ll get more sun and not be in the way).  Hopefully we’ll also disc the fields (nothing needs deep tilling this year, which is great).  Any day now those fruit trees will arrive, and it will be time to dig them in, too.

Hope you find a few moments in the sun this week friends, your hands in the good earth.

Ella and I are dipping our toes in the magical world of letters. We started with the letter B. We’re using Waldorf methods, so the letters come alive in a story and a drawing, like the bear you see here. I found this post very helpful, and I’ve also been using info from Ms. Marsha’s Yahoo group, waldorfhomeeducators. (She has lots of free files.) Ella isn’t ready to copy the letters yet, and she’s young by Waldorf standards to be learning her letters at all. But she and her Papa were both desperate (and have been for a long time now), and we believe in walking the Middle Way here. So we’ve begun, slowly, gently. It helped me to hear that even in the Waldorf schools, 99% of the first graders already know their letters, from parents or grandparents, and then in first grade they learn them again through the stories and begin to write them and put them all together.  So for now, I draw the letters, and tell a story.  We make up silly rhymes using the letter, and move our bodies.  And a bridge is slowly built, a journey started upon.

On a mostly unrelated note, my soul sister Kyce just wrote an incredible post about Healing the World, and building a more beautiful one, without having to turn into martyrs.  It really is everything I would like to say, but have never articulated so well, so please take a few minutes to read it.

Nurture.

Open for all mothers to share, support, & grow.

We will meet the first Sunday of each month, 2-4 pm.

Babies welcome.

My dear friend Sarah and I are starting a mother’s circle. Join us starting April 1 – email me at arbreadrie(a)yahoo.com for the location, or with any questions.

(And if you’re a Wheatberry customer, have you entered our giveaway yet and written a review helping us serve you better?)

Happy Monday morning everyone! We’re hoping you might help us spread some love by hopping over to our Yelp page and writing a review for Wheatberry. It’ll only take a few minutes, and if you leave a comment here telling us you wrote one, we’ll enter you in a giveaway for a $50 gift certificate to Wheatberry. That’s a lot of scones! 
Thanks everyone, and I hope you know how much we truly love serving you delicious food.

This week, I sat down to patch some tears in our warm-weather quilt, and noticed that the quilt is not only getting pretty patchy, but the white patches are getting decidedly not-white.  At first this really bummed me out, but then I thought about it a while and realized this quilt has been our main quilt on our bed for about ten years.  Not a bad run for a quilt.  I’ve been saying for years that I’d like to learn to make a quilt, but couldn’t justify such a big project when we didn’t need another quilt.  Well, it would seem that it’s time to start, slowly, working on a quilt.  (I know just the one I want to do, from Last-Minute Patchwork Gifts.)  After this season, I think this blue and white quilt will need a new job as a picnic quilt, and next year, a new quilt will take its place.

When does the day begin: when I wake up to feed the baby at 1?  At 3? At 5, when Ella says, Mama, let’s go downstairs.  I’m hungry?

When does my “real” work happen: when the baby is napping and I race around doing housework?  When he is awake ad cooing, and I am trying to make lunch, coo back, and playing pretend with Ella?

When I start the day asking to serve with love, am I ready to serve only in the ways I want, or in the ways that I am needed?

When does the good life come: when the sap bucket is overflowing, or when the tap runs dry?

The answer, I think, has to be both.  It has to be all.

It’s March, which for some reason is always a hard month for me.  February has wild energy and new beginnings, but in March I am plumb tuckered out.  I would like to be filled with the excitement of spring, but I’m not.  I think it’s time to accept that this is the way March is, for me.  To go to bed earlier, do less, not expect February’s projects to be completed yet.  To make friends with this discontent, since fighting it is what brings suffering.  I think it’s time to re-read Having a Mary Heart in a Martha world.  ( Side note: this is definitely a Christian book, but as a non-Christian, I still find it illuminating and helpful.)  I seem to need this reminder at leadt once a year.  The visible work I do is not the only work, or even the better work.

On another side note, a million thank yous to everyone who called their senators and helped them vote No on the Keystone XL Pipeline.  Blessings on your weekend, friends.

* Revised to add – be sure to read Ginny’s pep talk today.  Just what I wanted to say myself.