Do Not Worry, Little Rhubarb...

... You’ll grow into your pot.

Before this spring, the only time I’d seen rhubarb up close was in Mrs. Z’s garden. It was this huge plant, maybe 4-5 feet across, with massive elephant ear leaves. As it turns out, Briton likes gnawing on a stalk of rhubarb every now and then. So I decided we’d give rhubarb a go in the garden. I read online that rhubarb is very hardy (read: hard to kill); it endures neglect very well. Good enough for me. Plus, I found the perfect pot. The color complements the stalk and the Asian-ish look is reminiscent of the rhubarb’s antiquated history (record has it that it was used for medicinal purposes in 2700 BC in China).

Here are pictures of other “little rhubarbs” that will grow into their pots, too:

Today, Sydney had her first nap in the crib.

One day, T, this will fit you just fine:

Spring Garden

Golden Raspberry transplants from Mrs. Z.
Look, there's even some growing out of the compost bin!

Cabbage. Note burned leaf from that 91 degree day.

Peas

Planted Oregano, Basil, Parsley today.
Thanks, Grandma B.

Chives

And lo, the square foot garden.
Lettuces, tomatoes, squash, cucumber
(cantaloupe and watermelon not shown)

And lo, the rocketships.
How to make a cloche: a little bit of chicken wire and a lot of saran wrap.
Cantaloupe, watermelon, and various capsicums.
I'd like to build a mini-greenhouse over this whole bed.
And I'm not sure why the last few photos aren't centered.

Getting Sconed* and Stewed

Hiking around Silver Creek Falls State Park

Following tradition, we went camping with the Wilde’s on Memorial Day Weekend. This year two other families, the B and G’s came. The B’s improved the organizational and comfort status of the weekend tremendously. Each family provided one of the gourmet meals. The B’s made perfect scones one night after dinner. The fry-in-oil kind. The kind I’d been craving for several weeks. I ate seven. A couple with honey butter. One with jam. A couple with syrup. You get the idea. By the time I was finished, I felt, dude, totally … sconed out. (*CG deserves credit for the pun).

The Boy's Tent

KW made a stupendous stew. We were sitting contentedly around the campfire, slurping and munching away when all of the sudden, everyone screamed and jumped about 10 feet in the air. You see, where once Talmage had been sitting in a booster seat strapped to a camping chair, now he was hurtling straight forward toward the fire, arms and legs akimbo, booster tray table detached, bowl and spoon flying. He landed just short of the fire, face first into the dutch oven pot of stew. Briton grabbed him out. It was really scary until we were reassured that Talmage was neither burned nor injured. But that is not all. When Talmage hit the stew, he also hit the serving spoon, subsequently sending the said serving spoon’s contents on a crash course toward the oncoming Briton. After heart rates had decelerated, we looked at Briton, who looked like he had also taken a swim in the stew. Stew was strewn all over the front and back of his sweater, inside his glasses, dripping from his forehead and down his nose. But Talmage was safe.

Bundled up for "the last rainy weekend of the season."

Looking forward to Memorial Day Weekend 2009.

Fine Feathered Friend or Foe?

You be the judge.
Vote now.

Pass the Cultural Pass

One thing I love about the Hillsboro Public Library is you can check out their Cultural Pass. The Cultural Pass gets your family into various venues around town. For FREE. Today it was rainy so we decided, on a whim, to hit the Children's Museum courtesy of the Cultural Pass. Talmage spent most of his time ... now I know this will surprise you ... in the Dig Pit, shoveling rubber pellets into dump trucks. Sydney spent most of her time bobbing her head around, trying to take in all the chaos (rainy day=crowded day). The above picture is Talmage at the Children's Museum in Boston. I couldn't take any pictures today at the Portland Children's Museum because I can't find our camera. I believe I may have a brain tumor. But that is a subject for another post.

*****************

Tonight we all jumped in the hot tub. In his bed-time prayer, Talmage said he was thankful for "hot tub", "Joseph" and "Honey" (Joseph's mom).

Footprints in the Sand

Do some days ever feel like you're trudging. through. sand. the. whole. day? Each step effortful. Slower. I crashed at noon with both the kids, where we all indulged in a blissful two-hour nap. Later in the afternoon the thermometer read 101.4. Achy. Lethargic. You can make it through days like this, though, when you've got someone to hold your hand. I see that love in the bright eyes of Talmage when he asks, "Mommy happy?" I see it in the delighted eyes of Sydney when she realizes that those things down there are legs and she can stand up on them. I see it in the fingers of Briton as he picks he gee-tar, lulling Sydney to sleep, so I can rest just a little longer before church duty calls. Thanks, family, for getting me through this day!

A Happy Buoy and a Mourning Mom

Bobbing around in the hot tub

We needed a fun activity tonight (above),

to distract us from the day's grief (below):

An Eulogy

Fraulein Biff

Born: May 1, 2006

Died: May 18 (or 19), 2008

Fraulein Biff left us for the Great Chicken Roost some time between yesterday afternoon and this morning. I went out to the coop to give the chickens some kitchen scraps and Lafawnduh came scurrying out. Oddly, Fraulein Biff didn’t move a feather from where she lay in the corner under the coop. I thought she was cooling off in the shade. Except she wasn't breathing. I got closer to look and could tell right away that she was dead. Dead. I couldn’t even admit it at first. How could she be dead? She was in the prime of chickenhood. With daylight hours increasing, she was up to one large, pastel blue-green egg almost every day.

Fraulein Biff was poultry emotion. The way she hunched down and let us stroke her feathers; her quick scuttle to the opening screen door in hopes of kitchen scraps. I fondly wiped her poop off the deck. Briton happily raked the yard back to order after she’d been scratching under the trees for a day. Talmage’s first word was “chicken”.

I didn’t dare touch the fowl corpse, at first. When I did, it was with a gloved hand, angling and tugging her out from under the coop. That was the most difficult part of the process. I stuffed the stiff bird into a Winco paper sack, noticing her closed eyelids. I’d never seen them closed before. Out of respect, I placed her in the garage so the neighbor cats couldn’t eat her. And what do you do with a dead chicken? Over the phone, at work, Briton said, “Fire up the grill!”

Fraulein Biff lived a full, if short life. As an araucana chick, she freely roamed on the Baxter Estate. She was very sociable, spending the long summer hours under the grape arbor with any one of several Wyandottes, Leghorns, or Feather Footed Chocins. Of the 28 chicken brood, only she and Lafawnduh made the cut to move to the “new” house. She adapted well to her new surroundings.

When Briton came home, he looked me in the eye and said, “You can’t hide the truth!” For some odd reason, I couldn’t stop smiling. How unfeeling could I be? In the face of such a loss, I found myself grinning from ear to ear. Because although I will miss Fraulein’s curious eyes looking into our living room through the sliding glass door, I’m not going to miss worrying about her being cooped up, or, on days I let her out, worrying about the safety of the Great Cantaloupe and the other plants struggling to get a foothold in the raised-bed garden. There will be less stress wondering if the neighbors are ready to call the HOA on us when the chickens are extra clucky in the early morning.

Fraulein Biff was a superb chicken. Excellent, you might say, in all aspects eggcept one, of which we will never know. Because what did we have for dinner tonight? Beef.

We loved you, Fraulein.

Sunday

And Sunday brings us to a full week of blogging. Sundays mean church. I'm on the enrichment board and I'm also on a food storage rampage. So the Relief Society is going to the cannery this week as a "mid-week activity."

Feast your eyes on these muffins made from some food storage stuff. As Talmage would say, "Delicious!"


Wheat Muffins
Makes 12 muffins

2 cups whole wheat flour
1 cup brown sugar (this is why they're so good)
1/4 tsp. salt
1 tsp. baking soda
1 cup milk (1/3 cup powered milk and 2/3 cup water)
1/2 cup margarine, melted (this is also why they're so good)
1 egg
1 tsp. vanilla

Mix dry ingredients together (if you're using powdered milk, mix dry milk with dry ingredients). Combine liquid ingredients and pour over dry ingredients. Stir just until moistened. Spoon into greased muffin tin. Bake at 350 degrees for 15 minutes.

Great grandma Barker's wheat grinder helped me grind the wheat. Now who will help me eat the muffins?

Saturday

We worked in the yard a bit today.

What you see there is one ambitious pruner. They say you can't kill an arborvitae, but Briton is going to try.

I also almost didn't go to the temple. A Spanish-speaking sister in the ward was going for the first time. Our RS President had asked anyone else in the presidency to come along and support this sister who would otherwise be alone. It came time for me to leave and I couldn't find my temple recommend. It's always with my temple bag. Except this time. I looked everywhere it could be, including Briton's suitcoat pockets. No recommend. I called the bishop. Twice. Busy. I decided to still go because, a) maybe my recommend had fallen out somehow last time I was at the temple and they had it in a Lost and Found, or b) the bishop's line wouldn't be busy once I got to the temple, or, c) I'd be sitting in the lobby, waiting for the Temple Recorder (or whoever) to come and talk to me and decide to casually put my hand in my skirt pocket and realize that the recommend was in there the whole time.

If you picked "c", then you're a really good test taker, 'cause I was trying to make the choices tricky. I'm happy I was able to go. Since the session was in Spanish, I got to read the closed caption (when I was awake).

Friday

The theme for today was WATER. It was 91 degrees. The record is 97 degrees, back in 1956. 91 ... 97 ... it's merely a matter of degrees. They both make your eyeballs sweat. When the weather is this lovely, you definitely want to spend it outside as much as possible. Target provided an important ingredient: kiddie pool. (Side bonus: we don't have to worry about it killing our lawn). It was a regular party with Jo and Joseph and Karren and Sonya.



After naps, The Bogus escorted us and friends to The River of Coolness That You Get To By Hiking Down A Long Road Because the Gate to the Campground Is Locked Due To Winter Flooding Cleanup, Lugging the Carseat with Infant Inside and Periodically Carrying A Toddler, Too, But You're Not About To Turn Around And Go Back Home Without Getting Your Feet Wet After Driving All That Way. The aforementioned River was refreshing and definitely worth the drive. Thanks, A!



Briton had his own fun outside today, too, with biking to and from work, plus an hour of Ultimate Frisbee in the cool, 90 degree evening air. Ah. The balmy Northwest. Who says it always rains in Portland?

Thursday

Talmage on a hot Thursday in May:

The T-ball had a ball playing in the water at "Preschool" this morning. When we got home, we continued our study of Water.

Last night was a rather sleepless one for Sydney and I. When Briton came home from work, he took the wheel and I crashed. I woke up to this:

Briton should open up a kids' hair salon. He had the YouTube "Cars" video playing on the laptop in T's private buzzing booth. Then a bahth. Not bad.
Sydney and I are absent from any pictures, because for both of us, this day was a complete WASH!

Wednesday

Wednesday means gardening! Y'all just wait until I have a picture of these here raised beds. I can't write everything I'm doing because this is just way too public of a forum when you have canteloupe-raising secrets to protect. I will open the window on this much: levelor blinds. They make excellent dividers for square foot gardens. Gardening was extra fun today because A came over and helped plant beans while we chatted. Thanks for the bean starts!

Wednesday also means Briton's return. Talmage beaming ear to ear to see his dad again. His beaming reflecting my own. Plus, I know something Talmage doesn't: Briton has surprises. What dad doesn't come home with presents when he's been away? Growing up, it was always exciting to see what my dad's luggage produced. The gift seemed to depend on what airline or hotel he used. Southwest peanuts. Delta napkins. Holiday Inn soaps. True to my own upbringing, Briton showered us with free stuff he'd filched from the hotel. I got lotion and shampoo. Talmage got continental breakfast peanut butter packets. Life doesn't get any better.

Tuesday

Tuesday means trucks. We hung out at home most of the day. The garden beds are prepped. Heidi ... bring on the Cantaloupe Challenge.

We did leave the house twice. First, since my calling is in enrichment, I dutifully trucked us all over to Whole Foods for "Lunch Bunch". No one else showed. So Talmage, Sydney and I had a little spontaneous date and enjoyed an organic (read: expensive) lunch. Second outing was after dinner. Sydney was thrown into KidFit while Talmage and I went swimming at the community pool. He had a good time jumping off the edge of the pool into my arms. Except for the one time he jumped so far we ended up clobbering our faces together. If you ever want to know what a 34 pound high-speed, slippery projectile feels like landing on your nose, just ask.

Monday

Briton is in Dupont for three days. Only three days, but the countdown begins:

Monday means laundry. Four loads washed and folded and … put away! That sentence deserves an exclamation point, because the folding and the putting away rarely occur on the same day as the washing. Laundry Load and Gumption Level are inversely related. Usually, come bedtime, I swipe the mounding pile off the bed onto the floor. Except for today. I think I was trying to prove that I could hold down the fort while Briton is away. The laundry triumph could also be because Talmage slept until 8:45 a.m.

Monday also means Music Together. This is a highlight of the week for Talmage. Sydney comes, but I just put her on the floor and hope the energetic toddlers running around don’t step on her head.

After music, we headed over to Farmington Gardens to pick up some vegetable starts. We got lettuce (can you transplant lettuce?!?) since my three rows of lettuce seeds did not come up. Not one single leaf. We also got cabbage, various hot peppers, and green peppers, a cantaloupe and watermelon, and some several squashies. With green peppers costing over a dollar each at Winco, getting a whole plant for $1.49 is a real steal. If it grows. Last year the cantaloupe and watermelon got to the size of ping-pong balls. Rotting ping-pong balls. I picked up the artichoke container three or four times before finally deciding “no”.

After naps I took T&S to KidFit so I could exercise. It’s $2.00 per kid for two hours. Worth every penny. Organic alphabet noodles and broccoli for dinner. One teaspoon of amoxicillin for Talmage’s ear infection. Books (“Chug, chug, chug. Puff, puff, puff…”). Brush teeth (“…just because you’re pulling freight”). Picture book Book of Mormon stories as a passing nod to FHE. Prayers (said by me, standing a foot away from the crib to avoid being hit by an irreverent, mad Talmage who did not want to go to bed) and we’ll call it a day. Sydney is asleep in the swing behind me.

First Hike

Ten minutes on the Allegheny Trail (we had a plane to catch).

Hico, West Virginia... 'Cause Why Knot?

Rick and Heather tied one.

And boy, do they sure know how to throw a wedding party. White-water rafting, pizza party, them giving us presents, and a very picturesque ceremony on this overlook:Rick, for making my sister so happy, thanks. Welcome to the family.

Flower Child

There was a child went forth every day,
And the first object he look'd upon, that object he became,
And that object became part of him for the day or a certain part of the day, Or for many years or stretching cycles of years.

The early lilacs became part of this child... (Whitman)
...And the early tulips, too.

They say they grow up so quickly

Harvard campus. Talmage is the freshman in the blue sweater.

On to Boston

"Do you know this photographer?"

Grandma and Grandpa Barker came to visit when Sydney was blessed. One thing about being with Grandpa Barker on an "occassion" ... it will not go undocumented. This time we had especially asked that he bring his fancy camera so we could get a family photo. He graciously conceded.

On Sunday afternoon, still in our church get-up, we posed for our family of four foto. He snapped shots in rapid succession. We ordered online with Costco an enlargement on the one we liked the best. The next morning I went to pick it up and had this conversation:
Cashier: "Excuse me, do you know the photographer who took this picture?"
Me: "Yeah. It's my father-in-law."
Cashier: "He must have a really nice camera."
Me: "Yeah. It's a fancy one."
Cashier: "Oh. Well, I just had to ask because this order was tagged as a possible copyright infringement. You'll need to sign the form that says you know the photographer and it's okay to get reprints of his work."
I scurried home to re-tell the story to a beaming Laur. So, not only do we get a photo history any time we are together. We get a professional photo history. Thanks.