Ubiquitous Flowers

That’s what a reader called daffodils when I posted them on Valentine’s Day. She’s right, especially the sturdy yellow ones (the color of dandelions, not everyone loves them), and especially on Bainbridge Island where the commenter lives. There, plantings have naturalized along roadsides and at intersections all over the island. These daffodils, bunched buds from the grocery store, opened on my drawing table. Daffodils begin to bloom in the garden –  welcome in their ubiquity.

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Flowers From The Garden – Hellebore

Hellebore – the Lenten rose, Christmas rose – even braver than snowdrops, hellebore bloom here in January, bowing their blossoms for protection from inclement weather. My plants are 10 years old now, big leathery leaves get cut back each fall, so the blossoms appear as a surprise in the depth of winter. I read a long time ago, that helleboe lift their heads and endure indoors if you carefully slit the stem vertically in several spots.

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Flowers For The First

It’s good to read the First Amendment to the U.S. Constitution – and remember what does truly make American great:

Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.

And, just for the record, the press is not our enemy. I am grateful to truth-seeking journalists, editors and publishers.

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Perfect

Early Christmas morning I managed (with some pride at my efficiency) to get the pumpkin pie for dinner in the oven – and then left it there for hours while we opened presents and ate breakfast. I sent my old friend on Bainbridge a photo of the result, but then she countered with an image from the night before – the charred remains of her Lucia rolls – “425° for four hours.”

Sweet Baby loved it all – from waking up to discover mysterious packages under the tree and a baby girl doll, to having Christmas dinner on Bainbridge with little boys who know how to enjoy the underneath of a festive dining table.

My old friend (who was hygge before hygge was a thing) sent a message at midnight: “The evening was perfect – with all the imperfections.”

Yes.

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December Red and Gold

It’s bleak this early December – Thanksgiving put away and Washington dark of evening and dark of morning. Winter is come.

But it’s the political landscape that chills. A good friend says when she wakes in the night and worries, she reminds herself that President Obama is still president, it’s OK to go back to sleep. And it is more important than ever to look for the cheer and light in this month, for us and for the children for whom we pictured a world with increasing compassion and decency.

On Instagram I’ve comforted myself by posting pictures of #goldreclaimed, because I loathe the recent associations of gold with intolerance, ugliness, and tastelessness. This political year did a number on red as well.

I began the Instagram posts after my eyes fell on a little tourist picture we bought – the reclining figure of Peace – a reproduction from “The Allegory of Good Government and Bad Government” (here) in the Palazzo Pubblico in Siena, Italy. Painted in the 14th Century by Ambrogio Lorenzetti, this huge three-paneled fresco remains painfully relevant.

On the “Effects of Good Government” panel, depictions are pastoral and bountiful as you might imagine. The panel on bad government is faded, but you can make out the captive figure of Justice, deserted derelict streets, and two armies advancing toward each other in the countryside. The “Effects of Bad Government” depicts “a devious looking figure adorned with horns and fangs…identified as Tyrammides (Tyranny). He sits enthroned, resting his feet upon a goat (symbolic of luxury), and in his hand he sinisterly holds a dagger.”

Ugh. So here’s to holding on to hope ‘til time to act, and in the meantime to red and gold in art and life. This little bit of research lifted my spirits not at all, but the red and gold in Lorenzetti’s Peace does.

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The Grand VIPs

Recently I spent the best part of three weeks traveling north and south to visit these important people:

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Sweet Baby, who is 20 months old now, wraps her arms around my neck and legs around my waist in exuberant hugs – she expresses sheer delight and love better than anybody.

She speed walks through her house, curving gracefully around obstacles, but is never faster than when she spots an open gate or unlatched drawer. She’s a tiny detective with the legs of a sprinter.

Sweet Baby identifies animals in her books (in both Thai and English), and can repeat any word back to you. She asks her mom for nam and me for milk. She has phrases that are particularly her own, “no-me, no-me, no-me” might translate as “do it myself.” And she names all of us in photos – her uncle, Mr. Carson, is “Cheddar” – and Lady Baby rates a handclap along with her name.

Books fill a long, double-decker set of cubbies in her bedroom. Sometimes when we read she slides off my lap and picks a different book, other times she sits and listens to many long stories. (In the “Lion in The Library,” she begins to anticipate his roar when she sees the picture of the lion’s mouth wide open.)

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Baby Brother sleeps, eats, smiles, and enjoys – watching with fascination his sister and the menagerie. I’m convinced he will always be this way, good-natured, strong and tall, beloved.

Privileged grandmother moments filled this visit – time holding him as he slept (a huge warm bundle against my chest), and daily walks – his sturdy stroller an anchor on slippery streets. Now, when he catches your eye, he breaks into a huge grin, and love washes over his face at the sight of his mom. In a totally distinguishing feature, he grunts and makes loud noise – while sound asleep (!) in the early morning. It’s so him.

On Halloween evening with Lady Baby’s help, Mr. Carson put a huge, moving spider in the front yard, and Mrs. Hughes added bones and a skull, and black paper rats to the porch. While the others followed Lady Baby, a waddling penguin, as she trick or treated, I stayed behind wearing Baby Brother in the Ergo and answered the door at Downtown Abbey. (One puzzled pirate asked, “Is that a real baby?”)

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Lady Baby’s daily routine is specific now, and when I visit I try to fit in – take her to school in the morning, stay home with her brother while her mom picks her up, and still make time for “doing not much” together.

One day we set out for a walk and after the first block she asked me to tell her some things I’d been doing (how often does anyone ask that!). While we ate our muffins at the bakery, we played hide and seek on the table top with the resident plastic animals (hiding them under napkins and behind the sugar container).

At the used bookstore, where she helped me find old favorites for Sweet Baby, Lady Baby selected books for herself about knights, insects, and polar bears. And back at home, I read all of “King Ottocar’s Sceptre” – a whole Tin Tin volume out loud in one sitting – not an easy thing to do, but a grandmother thing to do.

These three are very important to each other also, and for these Thanksgiving days, they’ll be together!

I wish you a peaceful, loving holiday with food and family and friends!

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