Summer Night's Implosion

The other night, we ate out for dinner. Afterwards, Billy took all the boys to go to Grandma's house, and I came home. All. By. Myself. Ahh.

Driving home, I had the windows rolled down to catch the cooler night air. The temperature gauge read 84 degrees F, but compared to daytime temps it was right refreshing. The dense summer air was a sun-warmed stream washing over me, not icy but still wonderfully cool and pleasant, caressing my face and arms and tossing my hair.

The peace of being by myself is almost overwhelming. I really have a rather solitary nature, though I have learned to be a lot more social since becoming an adult. My solitary tendencies are viciously squashed during this stage of my life, as I spend every moment with other people, mostly small persons who depend on me heavily. From the outside, it must seem fairly simple to carve out a little alone time in my days- stealing some moments while the children are sleeping or busy. However even in these brief respites, I am in demand. At any instant, I am likely to be called upon. At every instant, I am calculating, managing, thinking ahead. It is only when they leave my presence entirely, safe in responsible hands, that I'm suddenly reminded what it's really like to be by myself. My bodily needs are the only bodily needs I must concern myself with. Other duties may call, but my thoughts are my own. It's really quite drastic.

I slowed down along Main St, admiring the old overhanging oak branches and the golden glow of the streetlights. The intense humidity refracted the lights, giving each one its own halo, softening the light into something more akin to fireflies than lightbulbs. I smiled, picturing the regimental parade of fireflies, marching down Main Street in celebratory fashion. The crickets chirped a jaunty summer rhythm in time.

Suddenly, all these elements came together in my awareness, the peacefulness of my own company, the wash of the summer night air, the soft glow of the lights, the trees, the crickets. Everything condensed with a bang, a little implosion of perception. It felt a bit like stepping into a parallel, enchanted universe, one that I used to frequent but that I'd somehow left behind. The night around me was positively alive with magic, bursting with impossible possibilities.

How has it become so easy for me to look past this wonder, blind to the beauties all around me? How have I become a person who can't see the forest for the trees? I am always striving, striving to meet a thousand worthy goals and a thousand more. I forge ahead, doing my best though I know there will never be enough of me to go around. In trying always to do better, to be more on top of things, I have shuttered my awareness of the finer wonders of the world. Somehow I, one whose very identity was wrapped up in magic, have managed to shelve that openness in favor of perceived efficiency.

Somehow in trying to improve, I am quashing the only parts of me that I felt truly sure of. My own personal wisdom, if you will. It is so very, very hard to be efficient and be open, relaxed, aware at the same time. Efficiency leaves very little room for serendipity. I hope I will be able to find that balance, to pole the deeper waters down the middle, where the current runs fast and sure, and I can sit back and enjoy the ride.

Make A Father's Day Picture Frame!

So this is a little belated, but I do want to share the fun craft we did for Father's Day this year. We made this for Billy:


It was simple and really fun to do!

You need:
- Fimo, Sculpey or a similar polymer modeling clay in whatever colors you and the kids prefer. Babyman chose green. We used about 3 1/2 packages for three handprints.


- A suitable unfinished wood picture frame- it needs to have a wide flat surface for decorating. I found this one at a craft store for a few bucks.

- Liquid Nails Small Projects adhesive glue, or a similar permanent bonding agent.

- Thin strong wood scraps- I used a paint stirrer.

- Utility knife or small saw to cut the scrap wood (paint stirrer).

- Rubber stamps in designs suitable for layering. I found a set of 4 stamps that depicted pinecones and evergreen branches, perfect for overlapping and layering. The set was on sale, plus I had a coupon. Score!

- Stamp inkpads in whatever colors you want. They can match or contrast with the clay colors. Also remember that the stamps will be overlapping, so keep this in mind when choosing ink colors. Some blending will occur.

- A rolling pin, small knife and a baking sheet. (Optional: baking parchment paper)


- Some fine sandpaper, if necessary.

- A permanent marker and a pencil.


Ready? Let's get started!

First, the polymer clay needs to be softened up.

For the Pirate's, we tried blending equal amounts of light and dark green, thinking we'd get a nice medium green. Instead the dark green was much stronger than the light, so The Pirate's handprint looks the same color as Littleman's dark green one. Oh, well!

The kids pushed, rolled and squished to their hearts' content. It's really hard at first!

But soon it was ready to be rolled out.

We rolled the clay to a thickness of approximately 1/4". Try not to get bubbles! Then one at a time, the kids pressed their handprints into their color of clay. The clay is still hard, so I helped by holding their hands still and pressing them down firmly to get a good clear impression. Next, I cut around each handprint carefully.




Next it was time to bake the handprints.

I used parchment paper on my cookie sheet, and followed the Fimo package instructions for baking. Meanwhile, we cleaned up our clay mess.

When the handprints were baked hard and cooled, I sanded a few edges that I'd missed smoothing out before baking. Then, we arranged the handprints on the frame until we liked the arrangement.

Try to keep as much of the handprints on the actual frame as possible, without obscuring the place where the picture goes. Some overlap off the outside edge is OK. Lightly trace the hands with a pencil.

If the handprints hang off the outside edge of the frame much, they will need to be reinforced. You don't want to lose a finger sometime later! This is where the paint stirrer (or other strong, thin scrap wood) comes in. Cut small pieces of the paint stirrer and glue them strategically onto the picture frame, where they will support the outside edges of the handprints but remain hidden beneath them.
Like this:

Be sure to rearrange everything just the way you want before gluing, so you can be absolutely sure you've got it right!

Once all the supports are glued securely and the glue is dry (it takes awhile- you might want to leave it overnight) then you are ready to decorate the frame! Give the kids the stamps, inkpads (and some scraps of paper for blotting in between colors) and let them go to town.

Remind them that a lot of the decoration will later be covered up with the handprints, but it's OK to stamp in the hidden spots just for fun.

"Wait- why are we doing this, again?"


Once the stamping is completed to everyone's satisfaction, it's time to glue the handprints on permanently! Again, leave plenty of time to dry.

Next the kids get to sign their handprints with a permanent marker (well supervised, of course!) and "Happy Father's Day" is added with the year. Finally, put your chosen picture into the frame and voila! A fun little gift for Daddy on Father's Day.


(Of course, this can be modified as a gift for anyone- Mom, Grandma, Grandpa, Aunts, even from one friend to another.) Enjoy!

Photo Blog: Cloudland Canyon

Cloudland Canyon Campout: Days 5 & 6

Day 5 (Friday) was set to be another scorcher, leading to possible rain later on. I'd intentionally left this day open for everyone to decide what they'd prefer to spend time doing. My Dad left early to go to work. Most of our group piled into one big van for a little road trip to nearby Chattanooga, TN. Billy took all the kids up Lookout Mountain to watch the flyers at Lookout Mountain Hang Gliding, then to McDonald's (a special treat). Others chose to relax or go hiking. My brother had returned,

and I got to go hiking with him, which was really nice. Since he'd not been down to the waterfall yet, we headed into the canyon.

It was great being able to hike along with my brother, no kids or anyone else. That hasn't happened in a long, long time. We chatted or just walked in blessed, companionable silence, listening to the birds and the far-off creek and our footfalls sliding in sandy, rocky soil. The air was close, heavy and hot. Wild blueberries provided an occasional burst of flavor. The sun shining through the leaves was pure magic.


Before long, we found our destination. My brother remarked that it reminded him of a similar waterfall he'd seen in Costa Rica, except there the locals had been diving off the top of the waterfall! (This swimming hole is not nearly deep enough for such a dangerous stunt.) We cooled our feet in the water, just taking in the day.


Before we left, I just had to stand under the waterfall. I was cautious, because I didn't want to encourage other visitors to take the risk if they weren't up to the challenge. Finally, the moment seemed right. It really wasn't that difficult, and some views can only be experienced from a closer vantage point.




I can hardly describe the wonder of sitting beneath a waterfall in such a beautiful location. The guys who had tried it all said the water hurt a lot as it beat down on their skin- I guess I was lucky to be wearing a shirt because to me, it felt absolutely wonderful. I could have sat there much longer than I did. This was the crowning moment of the whole campout for me. I will ever be grateful that I did it, and did not choose to sit on the sidelines and just observe.


After awhile, we decided to hike over to the other waterfalls in the canyon. They were nice, but I didn't really think they were nearly as lovely as the first waterfall. We headed back up the many, many stairs to the trail, and back to camp. On the way, my brother talked me into driving to a roadside grill for sandwiches and a milkshake. It was a longer trek than we'd intended, but DAMN! That fried chicken sandwich was good. I wish I remembered the name of the place, because it's worth a visit. I plan to go again sometime. On the way back I could clearly see the storm clouds rolling in. It looked like a big one, with heavy threatening clouds, flashes of lightning on the horizon, and a quickening breeze. Between sucking down my milkshake and feeling the wind on my still-wet clothes, I was actually shivering a little. It was bracing! I love a good summer thunderstorm. With full tummies, tired muscles and the wind in our hair we raced the storm back to camp.

My brother headed home, and Billy and I began preparing for that night's traditional yearly group campfire. Once ready, we lay plastic over the wood to keep it dry in the intermittent sprinkling of rain. We were worried the imminent thunderstorm would rain out the campfire plans altogether, but at least we had a nice big area sheltered under our tarps, lit beautifully with Christmas lights. It would be fine.

As it was, the storm skirted right on by us, and never dumped any real rain on camp at all. By nightfall the fire was lit, and friends and family (including some kids from a nearby campsite that Littleman had befriended) began wandering over with chairs and drinks. We toasted hot dogs, then marshmallows (for the traditional s'mores, of course!) and played story games until everyone had arrived. We closed out the night with our yearly round, everyone offering a favorite thing or a particular memory about this year's campout. We took a moment to miss Billy's Dad, who died in May. And we simply enjoyed the moment, watching the sparks dance up toward the stars emerging from the dissipating storm clouds. I read local ghost stories as the moon emerged and the barred owls added their nightly chorus.

Finally, we gathered up the sleeping little ones and everyone bid each other good night. Time to go to bed.

Saturday we packed up and drove on home. The kids slept all the way. Another year's family campout completed!

Now to plan next year- I need a good coastal location!

Cloudland Canyon Campout: Day 4 Cont. (Thanksgiving in June)

Billy's Mom, her friend (Billy's sister's mother-in-law, to be precise) and our niece were staying in one of the park's many nice cabins nearby. They had invited us to a potluck dinner for the night, so everyone wandered off to prepare supplies and drive over. My Dad arrived to stay for the evening, too. Billy's brother-in-law was frying a turkey, and the rest of us provided appetizers and side dishes. It was like Thanksgiving in June!

I threw together some potatoes, cooking them in the microwave first (because I was short on time) and cutting them up, then tossing them with olive oil, salt, pepper, garlic and fresh thyme. Finally I browned them in the oven before serving. Yum!

Some of us sat on the screened porch to eat and chat, and everyone else had fun groaning and offering commentary on some terrible TV movie. Billy's brother had brought their little dog, who was leashed with us on the screened porch. (Dogs were not allowed in the cabin.) One of my nephews' friends sat under the stars and practiced some songs on his acoustic guitar. It was a mellow, relaxing little family gathering.

As we were clearing up and washing dishes, there came a knock on the cabin's door. Yes, it was a park ranger. Yes, we were breaking rules again. What was the problem this time? Apparently we had too many people in the cabin. We weren't making too much noise, we hadn't bothered a single soul, and we weren't damaging any property or otherwise causing a disturbance. The fire regulations limit cabin occupants to 8 people, so apparently that means no more than 8 people can be physically inside the cabin at any given time. The ranger had stopped because there were several cars in the cabin driveway. Bonus for him: we had an illegal dog leashed on the porch. (Who had behaved beautifully, by the way.) Such was the end of our little family gathering. Luckily, we'd been preparing to leave anyway. Oh, well. We returned to camp that night mostly without incident (Except for my sister-in-law, who missed a turn and ended up outside the park gate. Can you believe, they totally lock the park down at 10 pm? It took her 5 phone calls to get the code to get back in. Every time we turned around we felt like adolescents getting caught: breaking rules, having illicit parties, breaking curfew. . . It was a bit ridiculous.)

As a special treat, I made ice cream, and served it up cold and soft with strawberries and syrup. We shared it out under our tarp lit with glimmering Christmas lights, as the barred owls hooted and called all around. A cat came visiting, and I gave it a few licks of half and half and some good ear scratches. It was another pleasant end to an adventurous day.

Cloudland Canyon Campout: Day 4

The next day I was excited to hike down into the canyon and see this waterfall everyone was so thrilled with. Billy carried Babyman down for me.



The hike was pretty as it criss-crossed back and forth down into the canyon, but the trail itself was often very eroded. I loved the rock formations we passed.

Cloudland Canyon's geology is interesting, in part because all the layers of rock are still horizontal, much as they were laid down in ancient times. The flaky shale sometimes yields interesting marine and plant fossils- Littleman has unearthed some in nearby Chattanooga TN before. However (of course), removing fossils from Cloudland Canyon State Park is strictly forbidden.

Littleman climbed up to a ledge for a portrait

(one of the only shots I have of him- he was hardly ever near me long enough for a picture, and he never stopped moving)

and The Pirate just had to climb up for his turn as well.



I caught cousin "Dashi"

before the Three Muskateers trooped on down the stairs toward the bottom of the canyon.



The deeper we went, the cooler and shadier it got. What with all the boulders, and mosses, and dappled shade, I felt as if we were walking into a fairy tale, or stepping back in time.

Billy remarked that it was like being in the Lord of the Rings, which I guess is to say that it was something like New Zealand. ;) I hope one day to visit there, to see what wonders I can behold, and find out if there is any real similarity to certain more familiar landscapes.


Finally we came to the first waterfall (there are a few in the canyon), and it was a sight to see.

The light was so gorgeous, and the colors so vivid, it seemed like we'd stumbled on a tiny tropical paradise hidden in unassuming NW Georgia. The waterfall tumbled approximately 90 feet from a cloudless blue summer sky to an emerald green pool that stretched across the distance to the rocks we were standing on. Several signs were posted forbidding "climbing, wading, swimming or rappelling" but hardly any of the many visitors seemed to care about that. The order of this hot summer's day was a cool wade in the gorgeous shallows, and a few folks swam all the way out to stand under the falls. Our group did a great deal of rock building,

leaving several interesting formations behind for later visitors to enjoy and destroy.



(this last one belonged to Littleman and Dashi. See their "alligator rock"?

Everyone was having a wonderful time.

Littleman got some lessons from Daddy on skipping stones,

and a few of us went swimming. Never have I seen a more perfect swimming hole.

Babyman especially enjoyed the shallow water and the gorgeous day.


It was a perfect afternoon.

It really is a remarkable spot.

We returned to camp by late afternoon, because we had special plans for dinner. I'll continue that story next post.

Cloudland Canyon Campout: Days 2 & 3

Tuesday dawned warm and humid, and the day heated rapidly from there. The kids ran gleefully amok, and I passed the time easily taking care of their needs and taking in the beautiful day. There is so much for them to enjoy, so much to do and imagine and examine.

Babyman especially enjoyed living outdoors- this was a constant sight during the campout:


I tried one more time to get the park rangers to see reason about the tents, or at least to offer some credible explanation of why I needed to move them. It was fruitless, however. I encountered a great deal of sympathy but the oft-repeated phrase was "Well, I don't make the rules." Before long Billy arrived, and since there really was no good place to pitch a tent on our site's driveway, he helped me move our camp to a new site. This one had a level tent pad, and we raked the large gravel aside before pitching our tents on it (ruining several stakes in the process). By evening we were all set, and the rest of our party had arrived.

We settled into an easy routine of camp life and visiting, swapping food and stories. The fireflies set the woods afire and the cicadas buzzed in time as I leaned against my brother's truck, passing a flask of fine scotch back and forth between us. It was an easy moment, a fine way to wrap up my birthday, for birthday it was (Billy's, too). My brother was heading home for the evening ("Wuss" I said), but would return later in the week. So ended Day 2.

We started Day 3 with our annual group picture. Cloudland Canyon 2010!

We did some smaller family shots for good measure,

and then headed out together for a hike along the West Rim.



The trail was great, alternating fantastic rock formations and wild blueberry thickets with canyon-hugging vistas.


I carried Babyman, which is usually a welcome workout. However the heat and humidity combined with my relative lack of practice was kicking my butt. Babyman fell asleep, and when we all stopped for a snack, I was glad to lay him gently down and take a break. He slept on, oblivious to his surroundings.


We turned back at this point, and by the time I reached camp (approximately 5 miles of hiking behind me) I realized I had overdone it. The heat and exertion had caught up with me. After lunch everyone else set out for the waterfalls down in the canyon, but I decided to stay behind. Billy took the two older boys and I did my best to relax by myself with Babyman. We had a quiet time together until later, when the intrepid adventurers all returned with evening's cooler temperatures, ababble with excitement over the first waterfall. They'd spent the whole afternoon there, climbing on rocks, splashing in the swimming hole and building "monoliths" and monuments of stones (all activities strictly forbidden, of course). It was a must-see, so everyone planned to visit again tomorrow.

The boys fell asleep quickly, exhausted. Billy and I snuggled in our tent together, bathed in bright, silvery moonlight which poured down through the open screened roof. It was the kind of camping moment that transcends everything, that makes camping a cherished part of my existence.