Looking for a Mother's Day Gift?

You're sure to find something at this weekend's Art Market in Sugarhouse. I will have a table there with screen printed items. Check it out!

Spring Art Market Starts Tomorrow!
Don't miss the perfect Mother's Day gift.
April 29-30, 2011
Sugarhouse Garden Center

www.artmarketutah.com

He is Risen

These are images of the Via Dolorosa, or "way of suffering" within the Old City of Jerusalem. It is believed to be the path Jesus was taken down carrying the cross to his crucifixion. Looking at them reminds me that there was a trial . . . an atonement . . . a crucifixion . . . death . . . and resurrection. . . that we might live.

"I believe in Christ; he stands supreme!
From him I’ll gain my fondest dream;
And while I strive through grief and pain,
His voice is heard: 'Ye shall obtain.'
I believe in Christ; so come what may,
With him I’ll stand in that great day
When on this earth he comes again
To rule among the sons of men."

-4th verse of the Hymn "I Believe in Christ"

Having a small child to teach has given me a new set of eyes with renewed focus. Teaching him about Easter has made me reevaluate the surrounding celebrations. To make my own explanations and teachings to my children easier, I declared the day before Easter the official "Bunny Day" in which all festivities involving baskets, eggs, and giant white bunnies will take place. Do any of you do this already? I'm hoping the separation will work well in the future.

Also, wouldn't you be proud to have a son like THIS? Watch for a true Easter message.

We Love the Mountains

If it was feasible I would move the Old Farmhouse to a new resting place at the foot of the mountains. Comfortably settled in its bed of pine bedposts, a canopy of trees, and a headboard of granite, it would spend each evening taking in an open view of the sunset from the west. I love the Wasatch mountains and everything they have to offer. We are forcing that same love upon our children at an early age. It might also have something to do with JR's desire to experience fulfillment of olympic aspirations vicariously through his boys.

Fueling up in the lodge

And yes, he is tied to that chair.

If you have seen one picture of me skiing in the last eleven or twelve years, you have seen them all. I have worn the same North Face jacket for over a decade and I don't even care.

Don't worry, I didn't allow him to go on the lift papoose style. We made great use of the free rope tow.

Emerson on the leashes

This is JR adapting to having children.

Do You Remember

when it only took a swing to make you this happy?

Before

I thought I was ready to commit and yet I find this large white space staring at me continuously. What would you paint if you had a canvas competing with your own height in the front room?

This Old House

I decided to give my blog a facelift and a new name that gives a little more intrigue to the page. My place of residence, my proud domain, my workspace for raising my family, my life, is in an old turn-of-the-century farmhouse. It all started when two young and ambitious newlyweds decided to renovate a 100-year-old structure of history.

Ugh, I want to cry for my past self.

I admit I was quite naive about the undertaking, thinking that after a few months of pounding a few nails and buffing the floors I would be basking in the sunlight of the large livingroom window enjoying a cup of sweet satisfaction and a good book. Little did I know that I would spend the next five months holding a crowbar, tearing into walls, filling up dumpster after dumpster, and welcoming my husband home at all hours of the night to help him scrub such things as 100-year-old soot from his body after tearing down the old flue.

While school and work took up most of our time, we pulled on our thick leather work gloves and warm layers to ward off the winter cold with any spare time we had to spend working on the house. The project continued to grow, and it seemed that every day another wall needed to be torn down and problem uncovered making our project seem without end.
During the following few years, the house would see certain walls torn out, others put up, an entire new plumbing system, new air ducts, new electrical and wiring, updated with a/c, new windows, 100% new sheet rock to replace the old plaster walls, a new staircase, ceilings brought back their original height, all new flooring, fixtures, doors, and kitchen cabinets and appliances. Boy, I'm glad that is behind me because even writing that makes me exhausted. JR did 95% of the work himself and even taught his wife to use a miter saw and a nail gun.

Room completions took priority as needed, first just a bedroom for the busy newlyweds we were, then a kitchen, the rest of the main floor, then two years later the upstairs was completed when expansion was needed for a baby on the way.

I wrote about living without a shower and heat for several months HERE.

At times when the world feels unstable and that things might just come crashing down at any moment, I think about the 12"-deep brick walls surrounding me in the Old Farmhouse and what they have withstood over the last century. Unwavering through World War I, The Great Depression, World War II, and four generations, they give me hope and security that spring WILL come again!

Pickled Herring and Tapioca Pudding

On my mom's side of the family, which contains Dutch heritage, long lives the tradition of including an imported jar of pickled herring along side the Christmas ham and turkey. Long before I was born the family gathered every Christmas Eve to the basement of my great grandparents' home to enjoy dinner, exchange gifts, and eat pickled herring. The home today, which is the residence of my Great-Aunt Virginia, has had some updates and touch ups, but enough of the original retro furniture and artwork pre 1960’s remains to make you feel back in the presence of Great-Grandma and Grandpa, and every other Christmas Eve of my childhood. I wouldn't want the setting any different. The growth of the family and addition of a new generation with my two sons doesn't change our tradition of meeting up in the basement lined with vintage couches and antique books. We continue to enjoy the feast laid out on the pool table, unwrap gifts, laugh at gag gifts, and watch the children's anticipation build for the approaching dawn.

On our way home JR and I had a conversation about tradition and change. What is better, tradition or something new? In an ever-changing world with high speed internet, high-def television, and high fructose corn syrup, the traditions and rituals of the past can be stabilizing, comforting, and remind us of the important aspects in life. They ground us to family and good friends, and help us practice generosity and sentiment. I certainly benefit from new tastes and ideas, but don't want to forget the old and abiding.

On Christmas Eve I scooped myself a serving from Aunt Virginia's large bowl of tapioca pudding, not only to satisfy my sweet tooth, but to partake in the time-honored taste of Christmas. On Christmas day I made "Santa Cookies" with my dad and thought about his mother who began making them decades ago. After Christmas fondue at my in-laws, we read a little out of Grandmother Lova's compilation of Christmas stories, songs, and pictures she handed out before she passed away.

Christmas gave us an opportunity to remember the past, and connect with our loved ones, both living and beyond this life.

I'm sure my ancestors were thrilled that upon his first taste, Emerson enjoyed the pickled herring so much, I had to cut him off.

Smelling his Christmas orange. He really was excited about it showing up in his stocking after asking for one just as the little bear receives in The Sweet Smell of Christmas.

"Super Capes"

His daddy made him some maple, all-natural teething toys. He likes the elephant.

Our attempt at a nativity with the grandkids. Half of the cast bailed. Here you have Mary, Baby Jesus, and a cow. Emerson wanted to be the cow.

Admiring the Christ Child.

Total improv.

"The cattle are Lowing, the poor baby wakes. . .

But little Lord Jesus, no crying he makes."