making one page zines

...from a workshop at the Portland Zine Symposium

• you shouldn't let anything stop you from making a one page zine
• you can make cheap 11x14 copies at the library
• you just need a glue stick!
• you can trust yourself
• zines are like pancakes...you have to throw the first few out
• if you buy 1,000 copies from the UPS store, they are half off
• make a template; you'll have the answer always
• the more people who make zines the better
  

guess what?

there's a new edition of fieldwork on it's way out into the world. and maybe to your mailbox! if you'd like a copy, just let me know. i'll send it along.

this one's about Reggio Emilia inspired education. and the best place for all things Reggio is the Camp Creek Blog. it's very well organized, very well written, helpful, inspiring. quite a find.

if you want more pictures or more stories, there's my one deep drawer where i keep the bits and pieces of our days.

the feast of the ephiphany

tomorrow marks the end of the Christmas season as the wise men, who have been following a star, finally make it to the promised child.

i've had plans (since Thanksgiving!) to string popcorn and cranberries for the juncos and chickadees and scrub jays and house sparrows that visit our feeders each day. so i think tomorrow, we'll pack away the decorations and take our tree outside. then we'll hang it with new decorations, offerings for our friends.

maybe that will ease the transition for our little one (and her mama). it's hard to say goodbye to such a magical thing as a tree inside the house and filled with lights! but this new season will hold its own wonders.

and after the cold, dark winter, we'll welcome our second child. wonder upon wonder!

things will probably slow down here at this blog for awhile. but i'll still be over at one deep drawer. and do look for a winter print edition of fieldwork.

peace keep you!

new year's resolution

Abbot Lot came to Abbot Joseph and said:

Father, according as I am able, I keep my little rule, and my little fast, my prayer, meditation and contemplative silence; and according as I am able I strive to cleanse my heart of thoughts: now what more should i do?

The elder rose up in reply and stretched out his hands to heaven, and his fingers became like ten lamps of fire. He said:

Why not be totally changed into fire?

from The Wisdom of the Desert

translated by Thomas Merton

christmas at l'abri

years ago our friend Jeff Weening spent time at L'abri. he celebrated Christmas that year with others like him who had come to learn and read and talk in a chalet in Switzerland. he was there over Christmas and brought back a story that we tell almost anytime someone in our family receives a gift...

at L'abri, you don't just rush through the opening of packages. as each gift is opened, it's taken out and actually experienced. if it's a CD, you listen; if it's a book, maybe a chapter is read aloud; if it's a sweater, you pull it over your head and get comfortable. this means that the opening of presents can take a long time.

Mabel hasn't been to a Swiss chalet, but she's got a bit of that L'abri spirit in her. as we've been opening gifts, she isn't in any hurry to get to the next one. she happily plays and plays with what she's just opened. she received wooden food to go with her play kitchen and promptly began slicing bread and assembling sandwiches. then we feasted! we've been opening presents since Christmas Eve and will just finish today.

how much more sane is her approach? instead of gorging ourselves on too much stuff, we've had almost a week of quiet celebration--enjoying the snow and good coffee freshly roasted and blueberry coffeecake and french toast with sausage and trips to the wood pile and roasted pork loin with yummy mashed potatoes and long naps and birds just outside our windows.

here comes the sun

the sun is setting on our shortest day. and the sun is coming. glory!

it's been so snowy and white here where we live that it's hard to imagine that today is Winter's first day. three more months of this? no, this is something special. this doesn't happen all that often. and so we've been celebrating.

first thing this morning we braved the layer of ice that had settled on 10 inches of snow and walked to a local breakfast place. on the way over, Mabel said, "it looks like Mountain Hood!" the restaurant wasn't packed, but we weren't the only ones out. everyone was full of smiles and stories of how they're making it. Mabel tried apple butter for the first time, a fitting end to Fall.

then we came back home and made a pineapple upside down cake. warm caramel sauce, moist cake, and fruit in the shape of the sun we're calling back into being. we had a tiny lunch and a big slice of cake before stoking the fire and settling in for a few pages (Richard Scarry's Big, Big World for M, Sibyl by Par Lagerkvist for Andy, and Acedia and Me by Kathleen Norris for me)before falling asleep.

now it's a bowl of chili and some cornbread--the same round, golden sun shape. we feel ready for the change of season, ready to see what is coming, ready for the cold and quiet. and looking forward to the Spring, the new baby coming in April.

arise! shine! for thy light is come.

glory!

I Heard a Bird Sing

a poem by by Oliver Hereford

I heard a bird sing
In the dark of December
A magical thing
And sweet to remember

"We are nearer to spring
Than we were in September,"
I heard a bird sing
In the dark of December.

the snow has fallen all morning. we've had scrub jays and house wrens visiting the seed we left for them on our covered porch. and you? soup's on over here if you're free.