At The Fair
At The Fair, originally uploaded by Phae.
In my family it has always been tradition that we visited the Stanislaus County Fair each summer on my birthday, July 30th. This year the fair dates were moved up to accommodate scheduling changes at the state fair level.. so our plans changed for one of very few instances in my life. It’s odd to think that the fair is already over!
I hear the dates are still up in the air for next season, here’s hoping I can get my birthday back! 
Anyhow, we had a great time. You can check out the rest of the photos from our evening at the fair here.
Abandonment Issues n’New Stuff!
Long time no see!! It’s been a crazed several weeks in a row but I’ve been painfully aware of my lack of ambition when it comes to maintaining this blog for some time. There’s so much stuff I’ve wanted to post yet put on the back burner while other endeavors made first priority. I’ve come to question if it’s worth keeping this blog, since it makes me feel unfulfilled and guilty… but my current thinking is that I should instead get back on the horse and make this a place that I enjoy, that you want to be. And no doubt, I’m always creating and finding great new stuff to share.. it’s really a crime to keep all this good stuff to myself! 
Also, I’d like to announce the relaunch of my photoblog: Phaedra Photography
I’m very excited to have my photoblog back- it’s been months since I’ve been able to add content due to unresolvable database errors with my host. It’s really a shame that I had to dump 5+ years of content to start over, but nothing lasts forever, right?! And, isn’t it pretty? Maddie & her fabulous associate at Better In Pink made me the pretty theme. I usually make my own but when she drew this one up for me I was touched and excited. She really is the most talented, sweet friend anybody could have.
Please do check out the new site and let me know what you think, about the look, functionality and photography!
So yeah, I’ll be back- and with bells on! Now that the kids are out of school and I’m swimming in free time there shouldn’t be any excuse as to why I can’t write more often.
Happy Summer!
-Phaedra
In The Garden
In The Garden, originally uploaded by Phae.
I’m not a huge fan of geraniums, but this one amazes me with it’s wonderful hot pink blooms. The color is really stunning! And so fragrant, too.
I must apologize for my lack of photo-blogging, or blogging at all. I’ve taken a break from pretty much all but twitter lately, as my family and I work to make some major improvements to our home.
Since I last blogged we have: expanded our garden by nearly twofold, built a 300 square foot patio, and almost died. Ha. I’m telling you- we are really altogether too old and out-of-shape to be doing this stuff ourselves… but if you know me you know that I foolishly insist on pushing myself over and beyond my limits!
There are some just-ok photos (taken with my iPhone) of the patio going in and also of the new garden space on my flickr stream. It’s terrible but until today I haven’t picked up my “real” camera in what seems like forever! I’m on full-speed-ahead-build-stuff mode so that we can get it all done just in time to really enjoy our spaces this summer.
This weekend we will be working on the path that will connect our patio and Mom & Dad’s house, across the courtyard. And also- laying down sod. My guess is that it will take us two weekends of sod-laying before the courtyard resembles a real yard. I’m going to be STRONG come this summer. Either that, or comatose.
We’ve accomplished so much now, just a few more weeks of Big Projects and I’ll be able to putter around again. Can’t wait to share before-and-after photos!
Thanks for stopping in!
Run, Pierre!
The last few weekends we’ve been hard at work outside- mostly constructing a maze of fencing around and about our property. We built a kennel for the dogs, a fortified chicken yard, and fenced off a large common area.
We would have loved to skip the fencing, doesn’t everything just feel altogether too fenced in these days? But we lost our previous chickens to a fox; and after constantly dealing with stray dogs and other security issues we knew we didn’t have a choice if we wanted to relax.
It was a big job and I’m really proud that we did it together, we did it right and it looks nice too. Not closed in at all. Except for in the chicken yard where we put up very tall fences. And that’s fine. Our eight chickens have tons of space to roam now, and so today we free’d them from their coops for the first time.
This photo is of Pierre Curie, our only rooster. What a face, eh?
You can see more pictures of our suburban backyard chickens here. Go look! You know you want to.
13 years ago, I was dying- and so was my baby.
It had been ten months since a doctor had told me I should never have a baby, that I should have a hysterectomy. I had recently been ill, and without getting into the details- my doctor at the time thought it was risky to chance childbearing. I have always been a bit defiant, and you know I didn’t listen. I ran. I ran from Colorado, where I was living at the time, home to my mommy here in California. On the way, I conceived Michael. I’d wanted a lot for my life, but one thing I couldn’t give up: children.
The pregnancy was uneventful. We waited anxiously, happily- preparing a beautiful blue nursery and enjoying everything. I was in great health, and so was Michael.
I was 37 weeks along, full term, when I began having contractions on St. Patrick’s Day, 13 years ago. I wasn’t scared, I was anxious… I couldn’t wait to hold my son in my arms. I did everything right- I ate my veggies, I exercised, I read all the books. I was ready. I was at peace. I was excited at the possibility of having a St. Patrick’s Day baby.
That evening I was still having contractions a little more than 5 minutes apart, so I decided that I’d take a nice walk to hopefully speed things along. It was gorgeous out. Perfect weather. I was enjoying my walk when I got what was one really long contraction. Never ending. I had to stop and rest while my husband went to go get the car. I wasn’t really worried- but I knew something was strange. I called my grandmother. “Is my belly supposed to be so tight?” I asked. She told me that baby had probably just ran out of room to grow, but to follow my heart. “Mommies know things” she said.
When we got home I felt very tired. I wish I knew then what I know now. I should have never gone to sleep. I should have went to the hospital. But, at the time, my mind was full of all of the stories that new mothers tell: of going to the hospital too early, only to be sent home. I decided to get some rest, knowing I would need my energy. When I look back now, I know that loss of blood had already clouded my thinking. How could I really have just fallen into bed like that, with contractions less than 5 minutes apart? It was time to go! I was just so sleepy.
I laid down around 8pm- bag packed and at the ready. I fell asleep immediately. And then I woke. To an explosion. My water had broken, but it wasn’t the trickle or gush everyone talks about. It was as if my body actually blew up.
I woke in a panic, not knowing what was going on or what to do. I was laying in a pool of my own blood, and it was gushing out with every heartbeat. “Oh. God. Help. Me.” Was all I could think, over and over. We were dying.
We hurried to the car and flew to the hospital, 25 minutes away. Our view through the windshield: Haley’s Comet. As soon as I saw it, I knew we’d be ok, and that Michael would be special. Absolute peace settled over me. I felt my late grandfather’s presence especially- I heard his words in my ears: all will be well. I was probably hallucinating, but it brought so much comfort.
I remember all of the craziness around me through a veil. My husband on his knees praying for our lives, desperate. Doctors and nurses working on me, shouting, people running. The last thing I remember before I woke was my obstetrician riding in bed with me, cleaning my abdomen as we rolled down the hall to operating room- then opening my belly- sedation having not yet taken affect. My baby was dead. He was going to try and save us both at all costs.
When I woke I was paralyzed. I couldn’t open my eyes. I could hear, though. And what I heard should have been horrifying. “He won’t live.” “It’s a miracle she’s still alive.” “If he does live, he’ll be a vegetable.” Nurses talking, unaware of my consciousness. I wasn’t afraid. After everything I knew they were wrong. I wanted to lift my head and tell them so.
As soon as I could I begged to see my baby. It had been four hours since he had been born, and he’d already made a miraculous recovery. In the NICU I was told so many gruesome details: I had a placental abruption. Michael had been born dead. It took 30 minutes to revive him, another 15 to get a APGAR score of 3. He was doing amazingly well, but his prognosis wasn’t good. Everyone was guarded, there was little hope.
Michael spent 5 days in the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit. In that time he had beat all the odds. He had survived. He could go home.
For weeks and months, and months more- Michael struggled with everything. He cried and cried. He never stopped crying. He didn’t smile or laugh until he was 5 months old. I cried with joy the day a puppy licked his face and he erupted in giggles. I worried he’d never be happy.
Everyone told me this was normal for Michael, that he may always be behind- he may never be “normal”. He had lost too much blood, been deprived of oxygen too long. They told me he’d have cerebral palsy. I was sad, I was worried- I was vigilant. I became obsessed with perfection- I would be the best mom in the world if it meant that he’d be ok, he’d be happy. It would take me some time after his recovery to unlearn some of that. I was young, and helpless in so many other ways.
Then, miraculously, when Michael was 9 months old he skipped crawling and went straight to walking. He began speaking. Speaking! It wasn’t long before I knew, without a doubt, that Michael was indeed special. A gift. My miracle.
I’ll admit- I babied Michael more than my subsequent children. It took me a long time to get over his traumatic beginning. I couldn’t bear the thought of failing him, of failing God, of him ever getting hurt again. I’ve learned since that we all have to get hurt to learn, to love life and cherish it.
Michael is a teenager now. A teenager! Already he’s accomplished so much. He was barely out of preschool before he was at the top of his class. In first grade he was reading at a fourth grade level. Fourth grade he entered a full-time GATE program. Most recently he tested across the board in the 98th percentile of the nation: math, reading, writing, everything. He’s currently attending a science based charter school. He plans to graduate high school early, college as well- and wants to be a writer.
Michael is funny, smart, sweet- a lovely boy who is becoming more and more a man each day. He hates algebra and loves to draw comics. He struggles with some things other kids don’t: he doesn’t understand social cues. He isn’t very coordinated. He is a bit spoiled. And other kids like to pick on him. It’s a daily struggle for him. He loves to be a physical style comedian, but that gets him all the wrong kinds of attention. It’s too bad, really- that the other kids can’t just accept him and enjoy him the way we do. One day, they will.
Michael has a blog, although he’s been grounded from the computer for some time. He’s got to pull up those algebra scores! And here is his flickr set. As you can see, he’s always having the time of his life. I’m just so glad he has time.
Cocoa the Catahoulagan
Even Cocoa gets camera shy. This is her, “I don’t wanna” look. Which she also gets when it’s time for flea treatments, time to come in from outside or when we take away something she’s chewing up.
Cocoa will be 5 months this week and she’s growing so fast! She’s nearly doubled her height since coming to live with us a month ago. Cocoa has begun to lose her super sharp baby teeth. (Hooray!)
Cocoa has even learned a few tricks. She can: Sit. Stay. Come. Bring it here. Drop it. Lay Down. Get Down. And, Get Up! But her all time favorite activity is getting into mischief. She is a master thief. Cocoa always has a pile of toys, socks, paper towels and other things that do not belong to her nearby.
We are super happy with our new family member. She’s protective and funny and sweet and smart. I would definitely recommend a Catahoula to any family with lot’s of patience, energy, love to give & room to run. She’s the most people shy of the five dogs on the property- which lends her well to protecting our property and persons. But she also has great natural hunting instincts- which could be useful for a hobbyist, or great fun- can you say hide-and-go-seek? The kids absolutely love her.
You can see lot’s more pictures of Cocoa here. And just for fun, you can follow Cocoa on twitter. Mind you, Cocoa has to share twitter with her alpha and her alpha likes twitter a lot.
Putting Down Roots : Memory Gardens
Spiraea Prunifolia, originally uploaded by Phae.
I think it was my friend Valerie who first put the idea in my mind to plant living tributes to loved ones lost. She had planted a lovely garden in honor of her grandmother, which she showed me shortly after my Grandma Marie had passed. At the time I was living in a rental, but I promised myself that one day, when I had my own land to plant- a forever home, I’d create forever tributes.
Seven months ago we moved into our very own home. Within weeks our very first tree- an almond, was planted in memory of my Grandpa Dee Huff. He was an almond & peach farmer locally for several decades. There was no question in my mind that I would ever eat an almond from this tree without thinking of the very special memories I have of him.
The planting was not without fanfare. The entire family gathered and said a prayer for Grandpa. We talked about who he was in life, how he was related to our children who may not remember him, and promised that we would care for his tree and enjoy it’s bounty in his name always. Each of us helped to plant the tree; digging, mulching, planting and watering it together. And a precedence was set.
There have been five more little ceremonies since: we planted a peach tree for Grandma Joyce. An apricot tree for Grandpa John. A cherry tree for Grandma Clara. Blackberries and raspberries for Grandma Marie. And most recently, this Spiraea Prunifolia in memory of my dear childhood friend Amber.
There is yet a short list of trees and shrubs and gardens planned in memory of others who have touched our lives and moved on. What started as an idea has become a tradition, and a way for us to connect in a meaningful way with our departed friends and family. For us to remember who we are and where we came from, and the people who have changed us and cared for us along our own journeys.
I don’t typically mourn loved ones lost the way others might. I look at the bright side. They have transitioned, their energy now lives in the flora, fauna and elements all around. I tend to see my forebears in the wind, the clouds, the waterways, the fire. I feel their presence in my life- they live on in our hearts and memories, they watch over us. And now, I feel that they have a place on our property to continue gifting our family with their eternal light and love. And we, having been left behind, have a place to connect- we’ve put down roots, steeped in memory and meaning.
There has been some discussion and brainstorming as to how to mark each plant so that we never forget whom they memorialize. Plaques? Wind chimes? Stakes or stones? Whatever we decide, we’ll make the markers ourselves and place them together.
Besides the inherent beauty of our living memorials, I’ve found a true beauty in the peace each have brought me spiritually. I feel a quiet and a connection to nature and to my loved ones each time I stop to check on our plantings. I have no doubt that each fruit, each clipping- each meal will bring me that much more joy.
My favorite thing about our living memorials is the opportunity it gives me to discuss our relatives & histories with the children. I have made promises to grandparents, many made to those at death’s door, that I would tell the kids they were loved, that they would know their grandparents. I’ve not found many opportunities since to do as I’d promised, until we began this newest of family traditions. In just this short time there has been so much knowledge I’ve been able to share already, and I know there will be many future discussions during which my children will come to truly know those who gave them life. Feeling connected to our past is a rich reward for putting down roots, I think.
I hope you will find as much joy in gardening, in the act of remembering, as I do. We can’t control what losses we will experience, we all die. But we can pour our loss into something positive, we can give each goodbye meaning. That is what I choose to do. I may not cry, but I will grow a plant for you and we will remember.
Meet Cocoa
Our new baby! She’s a Catahoula
Use #1001 for old Jelly Jars
Wicked Fascination, originally uploaded by Phae.
To catch wicked spiders in!
Best PB Cookies on the Planet
Well, that’s what my kids say, anyway!
The Recipe:
Preheat your oven to 375.
Ingredients:
1 cup shortening
1 cup creamy peanut butter
1 cup sugar
1 cup packed brown sugar
3 eggs
1 tsp vanilla extract
3 cups flour
2 tsp baking soda
1/4 tsp salt
Directions:
Cream the shortening, peanut butter, vanilla and sugars. Add eggs one at a time, mixing well in between.
Mix the dry ingredients, then add to the peanut butter mixture. Mix well.
Make 1″ balls and place them on an ungreased baking sheet. If you are like me and only have a few cookie sheets, use wax paper in your trays so you can skip having to wash sheets each time a batch comes out of the oven
Where do all my cookie sheets go anyway?!
But, yeah- once you have balls of dough on your cookie sheets, sprinkle some table sugar over each ball, then use a fork to create the peanut-butter-cookie look. Tap off the excess sugar and place in the oven to bake for between 8-9 minutes, depending on your oven.
Enjoy sweet heavenly bliss
What I Want
