Yesterday was on the high end of typical around here. Aaron and Jori tended bees, Karl smashed and organized, Liz cooked and
played, the little ones played and fought,
Nini and I shopped and got blessed by the Serendipity Fairy.
Karl went over to the beehives to peek in on Aaron and Jori's success. "We've emptied the observation hive completely, cleaned out the dead bees and drilled some more access holes. Now we're working on harvesting the first hive; we've got 5 gallons of honey so far." A guard bee zeroed in on Karl.
"
Augh! It's in my hair!" He ran off a bit, swatting at his head.
"Huh, that's funny," said Jori. "We haven't got a single sting yet."
"It must be my bear-like nature," said Karl.
Karl pounded through a section of the concrete path, opening up the dam. Our backyard floods in the rains. The previous homeowner poured a path that ended up acting as a dam, creating a nice four-inch-deep pond. Now the water should drain away. We'll be digging some infiltration
fields in non-travelled parts of the yard to let water recharge the soil.
Liz made an amazing amount of breakfast. Three fragrant herbal teas complemented the meal. I let the vapors waft over my face and the red clover and mate' blend spoke to me. I took a sip and burst out in goosebumps. "See? You're on the right path!" Liz said. "You took the one you should have."
We loaded up the van with stuff we'd used up and made a dump run. It's hard to throw away things that if they were made differently could be
disassembled and used for raw materials, such as car seats for children. We did have a fair amount (30 pounds or so) of large recycle-ables. I tried to throw out a mildew-stained hammock. "
Oo! That material is so nice looking!"
Nini said. "Do you need to throw it out? May I have it? I'll make something with it!" Later, back home, Karl smiled knowingly and shook his head at me.
"If you'd cut it up like I told you to, you could have left it at the dump."
Nini and I detoured past the Wooden Duck furniture factory and scored two trash bags of small wood shavings, perfect for bedding for the chickens. And another 100 yards down the road we found a pile of tree trunk cuts. They were heavy and too green to burn this year, but I'll be getting a splitting wedge and
breaking them up for burning next summer.
Next we went to Urban Ore and found a cabinet that looked to be a perfect fit for the new sink/
countertop we're installing in Karl and
Nini's space. I grabbed the loudest transport dolly. Banging down the aisles at at he decibel level of a jet engine, I stopped conversations cold.
Back home, Karl and I test-fit the cabinet. I got to work trimming it to fit around the foundation.
Nini got to work cooking. Friends (Anders and Robin) showed up, and I continued to stop conversations by running the circle saw
through the cabinet. At one point there was pizza coming out of the oven, people going upstairs/downstairs carrying water, phones ringing, girls eating, and sawdust flying. It was far too much activity for one kitchen, but about the right amount for the seven people who were in it. Anders slumped in his chair, smiled at no one in particular, and mused, "I wonder if this could become more chaotic?" Ten minutes later he was asleep in the spare room, utterly worn out.
Aaron asked if we wanted a nice sink. "I have a sink already," I told him. So he went to Karl and asked.
"Bob," said Karl. "This other sink is really nice."
Nini had a look at it. "I really like it." So I called the owner of the sink, who moved out over a year ago and left it behind, to ask if I could use it. No answer, and I decided that we could store it "in use" as easily as we could store it behind the house, so I dropped it into the cabinet.
Xena called from the grocery store. "What kind of beer do you want?" She and Betsy started to cook upstairs. I got a big bowl of coconut curry later.
Betsy and Jori invited friends over and started a bonfire. Liz and Joseph returned from the Bluegrass Festival in San Francisco. I hooked up the drain and tested it (no leaks!!) and Karl cleaned up. He'd already mostly finished re-organizing the
storage shed: "Bob, it is clear to me this was an artist's storage space. Now, however, it's organized." I didn't feel judged.
Finally, day winding down, I sat around the campfire. Nicholas come out and played his guitar for a bit. When he went inside, I tapped the strings until I drove Marc crazy. "Give me that. I don't play much, but I know a couple of songs." I still didn't feel judged.
Much later, after typical bonfire conversation (sex, drugs, rock and roll, politics, belief systems) my bed was already filled with Xena, Nicholas and the cat. Snuggling in, I felt very content with the tapestry of the day.
We borrowed Crafty Girl and walked Thompson Lane.
I've read that you can't recycle normal wrapping paper; the fibers are too short. Caitlan invented that the bag you bring the present home in can be a wrapper.
I learned that the reason we string cranberries is to be "food" for the forest sprites that are living in the Yule Tree, as they enjoy the warmth of your hearth and home.
After dinner one of the youths treated us to a fire show! The persimmon tree makes a good backdrop.
At Mary's, there is often the ceremonial wearing of the gowns, and this Holiday was no different.
Perhaps the only thing sexier than a man doing the dishes is that man wearing an evening gown while doing the dishes? Okay, so that part of the wearing of the gowns was different. I really enjoyed playing Twister® in a slinky black dress.
I am so thankful for my life experiences. My childhood and the examples my parents set for me, my ever-evolving relationship with my wife and children, my prayer life, yoga and mediation, coaching, chiropractic, births, deaths, disruptive events... as I embrace these, I become gentler, humbler, wiser, more tuned to God's will for me, more tuned to a consistent and verifiable worldview.
Even in the hot humid day, the space under the willow was cool and refreshing. Our smallest guests played dress-up, and made magic wands and willow and flower circlets. My wife and I took advantage of everyone's attention being elsewhere to run errands, buying some hot-weather starts such as tomatoes and peppers, and replanting one raised bed. She also seeded a new bed, with our next crop of salad.
Solstice goodness? What's that? One thing to celebrate is the completion of a work. One might also choose to acknowledge release from something: a negative habit, a limiting belief, or an expectation. We made firestarters with herbs, twigs, scrolls we'd written our intention upon, all dipped in wax melted in the solar oven.
Nick played for us on the new stage. Karl, Betsy, Jori, Nini and a few others worked hard to get it ready for the party. It looks great, and works great. This is what people did before television stole our souls: we entertained each other, we clapped for each other, we connected with each other.
Even the view from the nosebleed section is wonderful. Christine sings French opera accompanied by Jen on the accordion.
Later, much later, after the sun finally set on the longest day of the year, the grown-ups busted out their dance moves. I got to initiate the catwalk as a dance platform. I danced out all my negative energy, pouring myself into movement. I thought I must be horrifying people because (I am unselfconscious or a huge, big goof) they all stopped dancing. They got off the stage. They stared up at me. I thought maybe I'd killed the party. But as the song ended, they all burst into applause. I guess I'd only commandeered the party briefly for my own catharsis.
