Cat and mouse games...

We've been suffering all winter from the kind of rodent infestation that leaky, old houses in Maine invite. Between the baiting, trapping, and constant disinfecting, we researched ways to permanently evict our messy little freeloaders, and came up with only one tried and true long term solution. So here she is, Izzie Juniper Knox Dority Bishop, it takes major compromise to agree on a single name, so we gave her many. Our solution:

"I rode my bicycle past your window last night...."

Ever since the UPS truck stopped in front of our house during dinner yesterday, and dropped off Simon's wildly anticipated new bike, I've been humming "Brand New Key" by Melanie. I'm not sure why, since, besides the first line of the song, it has nothing to do with bicycles, but it's stuck in my head. The kids and I have listened to numerous versions of it this afternoon, thanks to YouTube, and now they're humming it too. Just a sweet song that I remember from my own childhood, that creates a snappy soundtrack for the scenes that follow the arrival of a little boy's first bike.

"I ride my bike, I roller skate, don't drive no car
Don't go too fast, but I go pretty far
For somebody who don't drive
I been all around the world...."

Today....

I might be a total sucker for letting the snow shovels and winter coats make their way to the back of the garage, and the bottom layer of the coat hooks, before the calendar says it's officially spring. But I have. I've let them migrate on their own as beach toys and fleeces work their way into daily rotation. I could be back to bundling wee ones, and scraping ice off windshields next week. But the warm days, and the blue skies, and late light has gotten to me. I could be a sucker for believing that Spring has arrived early this year, but the color of the sky, and the way the laundry smells after it's spent the day being tossed around in the wind has totally gotten to me. If it snows tomorrow, I'll deal with it then. Today is an absolutely beautiful Spring day!

.

Spring Sappiness....

Greta volunteered yesterday at a nearby farm, tapping trees and collecting sap for the upcoming maple syrup boil. The little girl that meets requests of picking up her dirty socks off her bedroom floor with eye rolls, tromped around through the woods lugging gallons of sap from tree to tree effortlessly. She was a sap collecting super hero, and excitedly purged all of the information she had learned to her Dad when he got home from work. Simon and I tried to help too, but kept getting distracted by the friends that watched us from their nearby pen.

"You can't have one without the other...."

When Simon asked Greta "What's the water doin'?", on one of our outdoor adventures this past warm weekend, she responded with "The water is just making the land the land."

When the day begins with the twitter of songbirds, and jackets are left by the wayside by noon, and I am tempted to take off my shoes and socks outside (but only tempted just yet), there is nothing I'd rather do than play by the sea, and watch it make the land the land.

The contest...

A couple of months ago, Greta read about a contest in her American Girl Doll magazine, and enthusiastically started working on her entry. She wrote, and rewrote, her 200 word essay about her connection with nature feverishly, and she snapped hundreds of photos which she narrowed down to the five that were required, with method. I was proud of her persistence, but not surprised. With every draft and downloaded photo, she grew more excited, and I could tell that she was picturing in her head the moment that she won the new doll. She was giddy on the day that we sat down to fill out the online entry form, but when we started to enter the required information we quickly realized we'd failed to read the rules and regulations of the contest. Contestants had to be at least eight years old. She was crushed. Big huge tears of crushed. I considered fibbing her age to relieve her disappointment. But after some commiseration (a phone call to Adam, and Greta's Nana) it was clear that saving her from the sadness and letdown, by telling a lie, was not the life lesson that Greta deserved. So she cried a lot, and I held her (and felt like I was going to cry too), and we ate French Toast with whipped cream for lunch. And with time, it felt a little better.

This would have been Greta's entry if she were 7 months older. I'm pretty sure that she would have won, but then again, I am her Mom.

I’m inspired by nature when it’s spring and summer, and it’s hot, but not too hot; and especially when you see animals like birds, squirrels and deer. I love the trees when they have leaves on them, and the grass when it’s green. I also love all kinds of flowers. My favorites are daisies, sunflowers, roses, tulips, and lady slippers. I also love fall. Sometimes showers of leaves fall down on me with all their fall colors. In the winter we play in the snow, my brother and I. I even like the brown grass, it’s still part of nature. I love the fluffy white clouds in the sky, and the beautiful sunset, it’s sometimes streaked with purple, yellow and blue, maybe even pink. When the sun is setting, sometimes the sky is a dark blue.

I love going on camping trips, we swim in the lake right away. I sometimes see deer, and the owls hoot softly in the treetops at night. We find blueberry bushes and I love to eat the berries. I make chairs out of tree stumps. Sometimes I see bears. When I go swimming I see fish under water. We hear loons hooting out in the water, it feels as if you’re an animal too. I like to see the squirrels scamper up the trees. Although I like it when it’s hot and sunny, I appreciate everything in nature.

Trimmed.......

Simon's first significant haircut was more of a comedic aerobic class than an emotionally charged event. Bribed with cookies, and distracted by his sister's impromptu vaudeville show, we barely managed to finish the job. Stage two, the evening up, will happen today with Adam wielding the scissors (he is the more experienced hair stylist in our family) instead of me.

This morning, Simon donned an old backpack of Greta's, insisting that he was "going to school", and with his new haircut, he looked like he could. So with a pear, a cheese stick, and a Clifford's Valentine book packed up in a dragonfly backpack, he is on an errand adventure with his Dad, and I am left with a little envelope full of wispy blonde hair to stow away in my treasures box.