From the wadis, ancient groves of olive trees, stone buildings, checkpoints, and the oh so distant Mediterranean coast to meadows, maples, bungalows, oil and gas refineries, and the slow muddy rivers of the Midwest. Some pictures of the changes we’ve gone through.
Daily Scenes
Wildlife
the kids and I went to a friend’s land in the country to see a massive hatch of tadpoles and herds of tiny frogs.
notice that some of these have legs and some don’t yet.
Can you spot the tiny frog in the mud? there were literally hundreds of these scattering ahead of our footsteps. there were so many that it looked like we were kicking dirt as we walked, but it was just teensy frogs jumping to safety.
to get a sense of how small these guys were
we spent most of a morning wading in the creek and exploring. it was fabulous.
mama captured a little crayfish and got a tiny pinch out of the deal.
there has been a huge hatch of cicadas outside the house and in our little town. the weird thing is that they are completely silent! it’s a mystery. millions of cicadas and none to be heard.
Play
a friend of ours dropped off an awesome unexpected gift: 2 huge cardboard boxes. We are going into week 2 and the boxes are still in play! They have been houses, caves, and garages. We roll them around with a kid inside and it’s a roller coaster!
and of course there’s the simple pleasure of just playing around in the mud and rain
a few shots of just us being us.
Chalk and the meaning of life
hmmmm…give me a minute…I think I know this one….
(outside the elementary school up the street from us)
random rainbows and sunshine found as we took our morning walk
Parent Thought for Today: classic act of mischief.
found on the elementary school playground. funny how bullying can look kind of quaint from the perspective of a 36 year old. It probably sucked to be the kid with this stuck to his back, though. I smiled, and then immediately wanted to home school both my kids through college.
Yoga Thought for Today: bread making as meditation, as therapy, as yoga
Since we arrived here nearly 12 weeks ago, I have baked at least 2 dozen loaves of bread. Honey Wheat, Oatmeal Wheat, Rye, Fruit, Cheese Bolso, Tibetan flat bread, Molasses Wheat, etc. Sometimes I stay up too late kneading dough. Sometimes I mess up the kids’ morning with my mixing, rising, punching down, and otherwise needing to hover in the kitchen. Sometimes the bread is glorious, sometimes I turn the oven off mid-bake and ruin 2 loaves. Often the bread is functional and feeds my family, but sometimes it’s a selfish act with caraway seeds or olives. I like to measure, mix, put up to rise and check back in an hour or 2. I like to be proud of something I have done, and I enjoy finishing something, complete something. Maybe what I like most is time to focus on something simple: water, flour, yeast, salt. Mix. Knead. Wait. Knead. Shape. Wait. Bake. Wait. Slice. Eat.
Sometimes I feel that the medicine I need is in the understanding I develop with the dough that I am pressing, turning, and coaxing into something new. Sometimes the goodness of bread is in the quiet of the rising dough. Sometimes it’s in the final product. I have come to a place where I really don’t care about failed loaves. Over/under done, weirdly shaped, or just not that great, I think back over the evolution of the ingredients from flour to baked bread and evaluate my own mental state as I was making the bread. Laila had a meltdown, I felt rushed, I was distracted, I was sad/angry/frustrated. Or I was lost in the kneading, enjoying my kids’ contribution of flour, messy hands, and enthusiastic tastes of the raw dough. Obviously very different bread from these very different circumstances.
Doesn’t this sound like a yoga practice? Starting with the raw ingredients of you and your mind, how you glide or force your way through your practice, how you listen to your higher self or disregard it in favor of tight abs and how it all becomes the sum total of your practice that day, week or year is a lot like making bread.
I know kneading dough is not asana, but you can’t convince me that bread making isn’t yoga.
