"Up to the Highest Height"

A couple of weeks ago I told my father and children that they could go fly a kite. No, really, actually fly a kite. It has become a tradition the last few years to go to Kite Day at a nearby provincial park. It is a free family-friendly event put on by amazing volunteers. They had door prizes, a fund-raising barbecue and the chance to make and fly your own kite.

Even though this is something we have done many times, the children were still having a hard time getting the hang of it. There was a wide open field and no lack of wind; it was rather the technique that was lacking. If you have ever read The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy by Douglas Adams, you know that the knack to flying  "...lies in learning how to throw yourself at the ground and miss." I think the same principle can apply to flying kites. Well, my son was doing a lot of throwing the kite at the ground, but each time he would "fail to miss it fairly hard" and it would drag and bob along the dried grass behind him as he ran for all he was worth toward the patches of poison ivy. Rather than the whimsical family outing I had hoped for, it was becoming more like a scene out of Peanuts.

Of course, he was not overly receptive to the advice of his elders. It wasn't until one of the volunteers came and offered his expert assistance, that he decided he would try doing it another way. We let out lots of string and I held the kite with my son at the other end. I threw it up while he pulled down, and ran a little, just for good measure. The kite caught the wind and up it went. We managed to get it so high in the air that we reached the end of the string. My daughter and father likewise were having success and the two kites danced and dipped in the sky.

At this point I was reminded of a book I saw once in a library. It was called Fishing for Angels: The Magic of Kites, by David Evans. As an experienced fisherman, my son really did look like he was trying to catch a big one, the way he worked the line was just how he would fight a trophy fish.  I love that metaphor, the idea that we are trying to catch a little piece of heaven, casting our gaze upward, as if to say, come, dance, play--we are here. It is exhilarating, and at the same time, when a kite soars high into the sky, the whole world seems to get quieter. If you haven't done so lately, I highly recommend it: go fly a kite!

Just Look at That Face

The other day there was a quite a commotion in the front yard. A group of neighbourhood kids had assembled and they were in a circle, looking down at something on the ground. They would come in close together, scream, and fall back. They repeated this strange dance several times, huddling close, and breaking apart with squeals and laughter. I braced myself and went over to investigate. Usually this level of excitement can only be caused by such wonders as chipmunks in downspouts, bird skeletons or strange insects, like the time a neighbour girl found a dead cicada.

The centre of attention this time was this furry guy (or gal?). The children were curious, but a little frightened at the same time. What could it be? As is often the case with children, the next logical step was to poke it with a stick to see what might happen. I quickly suggested that they put down the stick as not to hurt this furry friend. It stayed and posed for a quick photo. It was a very slow moving creature, and although winged it made no attempt to fly, but rather made its way to the wall and began to climb.

As far as I can tell from a quick Google search, this is possibly a tent caterpillar moth. That would make sense as the tent caterpillars have been in abundance this year, munching away on our trees and bushes. It's funny, because while I have been aware of the caterpillars, I have never given much thought to what they become. It made me wonder what other strange creatures I might find if I really just look, even in my own yard. Sometimes we just need a kid's eye view.

PS If there are any entomologists out there who can give a more definitive identification, we would be extremely grateful.

Update: How Does Your Garden Grow? One Month Later

It has been a month since we began planting in our community garden plot. Since I am new to gardening it has been as exciting for me as it has been for the children to watch as everything has begun to grow.

At first I couldn't tell the difference between the weeds and the vegetable plants. I ended up leaving everything for a while, and as things have grown it has become obvious what everything is. We lost some pepper and tomato plants. I think they may have withered during the heat spell. Other than that, things are growing as they should. In fact, we have already had our first harvest.

The leaf lettuce is doing extremely well and we have already had enough for two salads and to put on sandwiches and wraps for school lunches. My son, who is eight years old, was so proud to tell his school friends that he grew the lettuce himself. He reports that they all were really interested to hear about it and thought it was really great. 

Tonight we picked lettuce to make a salad for supper. The beets needed to be thinned out, so we also added some beet greens to the mix. I realized that we didn't have any dressing so I decided to make it from scratch. I was going to do a basic oil and vinegar, but realized I have no vinegar in the house. I opted instead for a Thousand Islands dressing. If you haven't had Thousand Islands, imagine you have a big juicy hamburger and you have loaded it up with condiments. When you take a bite, the condiments all squish out onto the plate. Now take a spoon and stir it up. That's the general idea. It sounds horrible, but it is so delicious. I made mine with Miracle Whip (I like that tangy zip better than real mayo), a little bit of ketchup and sweet pickle relish. I realized then that I still needed vinegar. I searched the kitchen for a substitute and finally settled on a clementine and squeezed half of it into the mix. It turned out to be a pretty tasty Thousand Island dressing.

My daughter, who is not a big fan of salads, actually ate her portion, excited by the fact that she helped to grow it. She informed me that she didn't like the "sauce" though. My son observed that it was quite amazing that all of this used to be just a pile of seeds. We ate with a sense of wonder and pride. I can't wait until our little garden produces even more ingredients for our suppers, and for our stories.

Environmentally Friendly Pest Control

Tomato Worm (photo: pixabay.com)

One of the first paying "jobs" I ever had was picking bugs. My aunt offered to pay my cousins and me to pick the potato bugs and tomato worms off of the plants in the garden. It was a gold mine. We were given a penny for a potato bug and five cents for a tomato worm. While far more lucrative, the tomato worms were also disgusting. If you weren't careful they would squirt you with a gross green liquid that my aunt insisted was tomato juice. It didn't actually occur to me until this very moment to question what that liquid might be. At any rate, we worked hard that day and were rewarded for our labour, and the potato and tomato plants were saved.

Fast forward 30 years. Last summer was a particularly bad one for ants, especially when the doors weren't always getting closed when the children went out to play.  I told the children I would give them a penny for every ant they killed in the house, as long as they also stopped letting them in! It was a very effective, economical, and non toxic method of ant control. Of course since we no longer use pennies in Canada, they had to catch five before they could be paid. My daughter argued that she should have a nickel if she caught three, since without the penny, cash transactions should rounded to the nearest five cents.  She has always been quite the negotiator.

Then one night I heard a lot of thumping, stomping and laughter coming from the other room, along with gleeful exclamations of "We're rich! We're rich!" I ran in to see what the commotion was about. Hundreds of tiny ants were on the rug and rather than getting me, the children saw it as a money-making opportunity. Here were their pennies from heaven. So. Many. Ants. After dealing with the infestation and disposing of the rug, I gave them each $2.00, I suggested that it is in times like these that it is more appropriate to find an adult to help. They are natural born entrepreneurs though, I'll give them that.

Three Ants (photo: pixabay.com)

How about you? Have you ever been paid for catching bugs? Do you have other non-toxic ways of dealing of dealing with pests? A penny for your thoughts?

Do you want arachnids with that?

This morning I went to my favourite (Mc)Cafe drive through for my morning cup of decaf. I pulled up to pay and rolled down my window. As the young man was about to pass the debit machine to me a spider dropped down between us on a single gossamer thread. It was a terrifying, heart-pounding and incredibly awkward moment. You see, I have a had a lifelong phobia of spiders.

I remember as a little girl, my mother tried to cure my arachnophobia by reading me Charlotte's Web. Charlotte was so clever and kind (if bloodthirsty). E. B. White taught me that these talented and self-sacrificing creatures were our friends. The illusion lasted just a few short months until I was bit on the leg by a spider. I no longer considered this an irrational fear--it is a very logical one.

Once as a teen there was a spider on me and I screamed. Dear mother suggested that I should scream, "Spider," rather than just screaming so that she can more readily and accurately assess the seriousness of the situation.

In university I turned down a job in a pet store when I was told that I would have to clean the tarantula cages. And I don't even want to talk about the outhouse in the jungle late at night without a flashlight...

Now that I am a parent I have had to be a little more brave and take care of spiders in the kids' bedrooms and so forth. This practiced calm helped this morning in the drive through.

So here we were: me, the drive through employee and the spider. All three of us were in a predicament. A light warm breeze kept blowing the spider toward me.  I asked if he had a napkin. He found a paper bag. I expected him to hand me the bag, but going above and beyond the call of duty, he rescued me from the car spider, exclaiming, "It's OK,  I really don't like bugs either. I hope it doesn't stick to the bag." But no, the spider was brushed away moved on. I paid for my order and was on my way.

I think they should give that young man employee of the month.  At the very least I hope that he felt good about helping the crazy lady in the white car, and had a funny story to tell his friends. As Charlotte said, "After all what's a life anyway? We're born, we live a little while, we die...By helping you, perhaps I was trying to lift up my life a trifle.  Heaven knows anyone's life can stand a little of that." And mom, you should be proud of me; I didn't even need to scream, "Spider."

This is totally staged, but this is the actual coffee cup and I think the same species of spider. 

How Does Your Garden Grow?

A few weeks ago I won the lottery and the prize was some prime real estate.

I entered my name in my city's free lottery to win one of around 80 community garden plots. My name was drawn and I have been given a 4'×8' plot to call my own from May until October.

It seemed like a good idea at the time but the task is rather daunting. I have not had good luck with plants in the past. I actually managed to kill an aloe plant. But I want my children to have the opportunity to watch things grow, learn to care for the garden and enjoy eating the fruits (er, veggies) of their labour.

I still remember the first time I was given my own small corner of the garden. I was probably around four years old and I planted radishes. I didn't like radishes, but I was persuaded to plant them as they would be easy and relatively quick to grow.  From that point on whenever someone asked me "Mary, Mary quite contrary, how does your garden grow," I would reply, "With radishes." I thought my children should likewise have their own corners in the garden.

Last week we were assigned our plot. The children were excited to discover that there is a playground right beside our plot. They had fun playing while I signed the waivers.

A few days later we returned to begin working on our garden. We had just begun pulling weeds when we were joined by two more children, who remembered my kids from playing together on the previous visit. They wanted to help too. Before I knew it, all of the children were leaving the playground to come and pull weeds with us. Eventually parents wandered over too to talk about the gardens, the neighbourhood and the kids.  Many hands made light work.  And by the time the last of our little helpers left we were ready to plant.

I divided the garden into squares and let the children plant the seeds: onions, beets, peas, lettuce, and carrots.  And while we planted and mucked about in the dirt, I thought this is the real prize. If you ask me now, "Mary, Mary quite contrary, how does your garden grow," I'll reply, "with new friends and community, childhood memories, a dandelion for the bees, but no radishes."

Dancing On Bubble Wrap

This was a tough week. My daughter was sick and missed a lot of fun events at school and at her after-school clubs. There was a lot of disappointment to deal with on top of not feeling well.  It was also a busy week with early mornings and long days.  Mid-week she lost a tooth, and I still haven't learned to make sure I always have loonies on hand, and did the mad scramble for change that resulted in yet another sandwich bag full of assorted coins under the pillow. (See A Coin from the Tooth Fairy)

Then there was this one golden moment where all was right with the world. My wonderful mother-in-law had been looking after my daughter while I was at work and invited us to stay for dinner. Just as we were about to sit down to eat the kids spotted two sheets of bubble wrap from a package that had arrived that day. It was providence. They asked if they could dance on the bubble wrap. Suddenly I am faced with a decision. I start to think, but it's time to eat, my head hurts, it will be so loud... But really, it was a moment that it was just as easy to say yes as it was to say no. And so to their surprise and delight I told them to go ahead. Ah, the sound of it! It was like a hundred firecrackers being set off by a couple of elephants; a sound only exceeded by the gleeful laughter of children.

As we were driving yesterday the Lee Ann Womack song "I Hope You Dance" came on the radio. I told my daughter to listen as it is my song for her. I proceeded to sing along, while crying, which I'm sure she really loved. I hope if there is anything my daughter remembers about the week, that it is not the pain or the disappointment, but that she had family to love and look after her, and that she danced in the kitchen with her brother.  So on this Mother's Day I mean every word when I sing to my children, "Promise me that you'll give faith a fighting chance, And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance, I hope you dance..."(on bubble wrap).