It is 5:45 AM when he appears at my side of the bed, a troll-shaped shadow with his arms full of Beanie Babies.
"Mama?" (This in a stage whisper.) "Did you have a bad dream?" "No." "Are you sick?" "No."
My brain slips and slides on its track, still trying to rise up out of a thick, gooey dream. I consider problem-solving a little more, but at this point in my sleep cycle I just want the fastest route back to my pillow.
"Um. Okay, Buddy. You can stay, but it is still sleep time." "Okay!" he agrees. The sheer enthusiasm and cheerfulness of his response at this wee hour should have clued me in.
For the next forty five minutes he wiggles. He hums. Once we bonk heads like two of the Three Stooges when he tries to peer into my face and figure out if my eyes are open in the dark. A menagerie of stuffed animals bounce on the comforter like it is a trampoline at a birthday party. Periodically I rise to consciousness enough to consider ordering him back to his own bed. Somehow sensing my dangerous thoughts, he'd snuggle against me completely still for a few moments, warm and soft and smelling faintly like baby shampoo.
"Mama?" "Mmm hmm?" "I love you!" Of course he can stay. Then two minutes later a mini foam football goes whizzing past my nose.
At six-thirty I give up and roll over, look up at the ceiling. I realize I've been dozing with said foam football wedged against my cheek. In mere seconds Eli sees my eyes are open and attacks, draping himself across me and whispering those three little words in my ear: "Oh, Mama? Pancakes!"
I reach over to rub the top of his head but stop cold. His head feels strange. Lumpy. My heart skips a beat. Lice! Vermin on my child and snuggled into our bed! But, thank God, no. It is just sand. My child's scalp is full of sand from yesterday at the school playground. In the busy fun of going to a homecoming parade last night we never noticed the sand and got back too late for his usual bath.
Upon sitting up, I realized that my bed feels strange too. More sand. It is completely gritty -- even my pillow. "Eli, did you abandon your bed because it was too gritty?" "Yeah." "Do you think maybe you should have told me about the sand?" "Why?"
I've been working on a project that has me sifting through old journal entries. I just came across this one from two years ago, when Eli was coming towards the end of being age two and it made me happy to remember...
We splurged on a trip to Ici [ice cream shop] today. I don’t mind Eli having a little
quality ice cream now and then. I also got pleasure from watching
his pleasure with his little paper cup of chocolate ice cream. An older lady shared the indoor bench
with us, and she seemed to like watching Eli too. She commented how tidy he was. That was true, but he still had goop all over his fingers
when he was done. And he’d tipped
up the cup to get every last drop, so he had a curve of melted ice cream around
his mouth as well as some on his eyebrows from the cup’s rim. I zipped over to wet a napkin with the
water pitcher provided for the customers, but I didn’t want Eli touching everything
in those ten seconds. So on a
whim, I said, “You know how we hold out our hands and wiggle them when we sing
‘Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star’?
Hold your hands out like that, please, until I get the napkin.” I’m just starting to pour some water when
I hear Eli over my shoulder. A
squeaky tot voice singing, “…How I wonder what you are….” I turned around just to watch my
beautiful child in the soft afternoon light. He swayed slightly on the bench and twisted his outstretched
hands to imitate flickering starlight.
I glanced over at the older lady and she was watching, forgetting the
spoonful of ice cream halfway to her mouth. The two serving ladies behind the counter stopped bagging
peanut brittle to watch Eli too. “Aww! That is so sweet!” one of them
crooned. He was oblivious. He sang the song through to the end and
then smiled, reaching out for my napkin.
My boy was magical for a few moments. It was like lighting a candle in a cold, dark room to have
innocence and self-confidence flowing through the ice cream store in the middle
of an ordinary afternoon.
I'm sitting in a folding chair in the shade of my garage. Out on the driveway, Eli's Big Wheel is parked and forgotten, his sandals tossed on the cement nearby. The water balloons I filled were gleefully popped as quickly as I could tie them off. Now Eli's attention is absorbed by a big bucket of water. He's standing in the bucket, throwing "water bombs" -- sponge balls wrapped in stretchy fabric. As each drippy ball goes sailing, he either shouts, "Home run!" or "Touchdown!"
I could be inside. But the minute I go inside, the doorknob will rattle as Eli sticks his head in seeking help, asking a question, or telling me something important -- he saw a squirrel, he dripped water into his belly button, or the mailman still hasn't come. Eli zips off again, leaving the door wide open no matter how many times in a row I get him to come back and close it.
Earlier this afternoon when the door kept clicking open, I felt my irk-o-meter beginning to rise. I was longing to write plus I was sleepy (because of a wiggly tot in our bed at 2 A.M.) But I reminded myself that it is summer vacation and I came outside. Instant Georgia heat and humidity, but also fresh air and good company.
I say I want my child to love the outdoors, and that means encouraging being outside even when the conditions aren't perfect. And Eli wants to play with me, which always brings me joy. What I always seem to forget, however, is that his four year-old attention span means he soon wanders off on his own. That's good too. I love watching him play, completely unselfconscious as talks to toys, bugs, and himself. Then minutes click by. I'm sweaty and getting sweatier. Walking in the grass earlier made my ankles itch. I start rewriting manuscript paragraphs in my head. After a while, I slip back inside. Cool and quiet. Feeling hopeful, I lift open my laptop. Two minutes later, the door clicks as Eli leans and hollers in to let me know he still hasn't seen the mailman...
This summer, our time is made up of tiny pieces, each one with its own shape and color. One moment we're eating PB & J lunch together, Eli acting as sous chef to chop (pulverize) the carrot sticks. The next he's quietly playing with toy cars across the carpet while I wash dishes -- and work on my current book project in my head. Some days we run errands or meet up with friends. I have a free hour during Eli's daily swim lesson, yet because his floatie belt has him in water over his head and the instructor is often helping another kid, I feel the need to be vigilant. I also love watching his gleeful progress in this new, watery world. And that's sort of a microcosm of what it is like to be with a preschooler all summer. You want to watch, share in it all. You also need a little time to yourself. You can take your attention away for a few moments -- much longer than when your child was a toddler -- yet never for quite as long as you crave.
On these lazy summer days, I've already become aware of our need for repeated patterns. Neither of us does well with too much adventure nor too much quiet time. We both need company -- just each other sometimes but also friends -- as well as solo time. I find myself looking through our days and moments, shifting the kaleidoscope to make balanced patterns whenever I can. That means I'll occasionally I'll turn down a play date offer so we can stay home, Eli listening to stories on CD borrowed from the library while I catch up on my email or the blog. Or if it has been too quiet lately, I'll sift through my list of local fun spots so we can go exploring. As we become more accustomed to summer's rhythms, we appreciate each piece of time for its own color and shape as part of a larger, brighter, complex season.
While I was writing this blog post, I also took breaks to:
Evict a winged bug from the water play bucket
Fix a jammed squirt gun
Poke under the car with a measuring stick to retrieve a hockey puck
Admire a weedy flower thrust under my nose
Answer Eli's question on how to spell "dancing banana" (??!!)
Yesterday morning we were in South Georgia. Brian was teaching at a conference, so Eli and I were free to wander. Less than an hour away was a town I've been longing to explore as it might hold the key to my next book project. I packed Eli's backpack with snacks and warm clothes. I readied my camera and tripod. Soon we were rolling along Georgia back roads past morning fields, farms, and pine forests...
We arrived in the tiny old crumbling cotton town mid-morning. The wind was whistling, but the gray sky gave way to sunshine now and then. I told myself I'd play it by ear, see how long Eli was up for.
We wandered the sidewalks. As I clicked away, I told Eli what I was looking for and showed him some of the images on my camera screen. He helped point out places that looked "weally, weally old." (Some of them were definitely not, but it was fun to see "history" through a four year-old's eyes.) We soon discovered the train tracks on the edge of town, which captured Eli's imagination nicely. And when he was done gawking, he had a grand old time picking up discarded plastic bottles to recycle. (Yucky, but he did have on thick mittens.)
I can't quite express what a joy the morning was. I was glad that my hunch was right; the place has a story that I would love to tell. But sharing the search-and-discovery process with my boy was a whole new level of joy.
On the way back to meet up Brian, I remembered a letter I wrote to Eli in my journal back when I was two months pregnant with him (and he was still nicknamed after the English candy treats we'd enjoyed on our honeymoon a few months earlier). I'd been taking photographs that morning and feared motherhood might sideline my creativity for a while. I'll share the letter at the bottom of this post in case anybody is interested. And here are a few of the photos from Team Mama + Eli...
May 9, 2008 Friday morning
Dear Jelly Tot,
We had an adventure this morning! I looked out the window and saw how pretty the light was falling across the honeysuckle and the spring vines of the kudzu, so I set down the kettle I was filling with water and grabbed my camera instead. I filled a split-oak basket with some antique kitchen tools and went out the back gate. I need images for the website to promote my writing.
There’s such a pleasure in taking photographs; seeing the world framed and simplified. Getting lost in visual thought. I took pictures of an old milk pail rimmed in light below the arched stalks of weeds still sparkling with drops of last night’s rain.
“I won’t be able to do things like this anymore when the baby comes,” I thought. That was hard. But then I thought that if you were tiny, I could grab the baby monitor and work until you woke up. If you were awake, I might be able to squeeze in a few photos while you watched from a portable seat or playpen. I’m guessing if you were a toddler, it might truly be impossible – you wandering into the view, hollering to hold the very object I’m trying to photograph, or taking off in some dangerous direction the minute I look away. Dad will watch you so I can click a few pictures on a weekend morning, though. But when you get to be four or so, maybe I can show you what I’m doing and even let you try a shot with an inexpensive camera that I bring with me just for that purpose. And then at five you’ll be in school many mornings of the year so I can do solo work. Maybe then I’ll miss you “helping” and won’t be able to wait until lazy summers so we can have whole days again!
It takes a little while to make peace with the idea that my time won’t be my own for a while. But it was good for me this morning to think through ways I can continue to be creative and not completely give up my own pleasures or personal work. There are many tasks in life – at home, with a job, in a community. Many of them would go undone if we don’t do them, yet they could be done by someone else. Then there is personal work. This is the work you do from deep within – the creative and the psychological – that nobody can accomplish but you. Someone can take up your artist materials and tools, even follow your lead, but no one can actually make your statement or build understanding from your unspoken, complex thoughts. When anything delays personal work, it leads to frustration. As a writer, I seem to generate (and self-assign?) more personal work than a lot of people I know. That’s why staying at home is so deeply satisfying to me. My career in libraries and archives was rewarding, but after I while I realized I’d explored most of what interested me most in the field and learned what I needed to know to fuel future ventures. After that point, I was making the world a better place, but I was completing tasks that others could do and delaying my own personal work.
Life is all about balance. It’s funny....
I’ve been rereading Laura Ingalls Wilder’s Little House books. Back then, children weren’t supposed to speak until spoken to at the supper table. At gatherings, they ate after the adults. They were expected to behave as adults in many ways – chores, sitting still in church, etc. With so much to do everyday, children were to be a help rather than a burden as early as possible. Right now, trends in parenting are almost the reverse. Kids get everything first and have very little asked of them. Parents are to sacrifice as deeply as possible to give their children everything they never had and everything their children’s peers may get. But there’s got to be a middle ground where kids learn to take their rightful place in life as they grow up – not at the top nor at the bottom, but as a member of the family and community who should contribute and who also has a say. They need to defer to the greater experience and maturity of the parent or other elders, especially when very young, but they should get a strong sense of balance.
Jelly Tot, while you are growing up, I want you to get what you need and to be aware that you’re getting what you need. Sometimes you should also get what you want. But it should be clear to you that your parents – like all those around you - are also people with lives and feelings, that they should get what they need and also sometimes what they want. I want you to grow up knowing that adult life should be balanced with enough creative flow to be satisfying no matter what ordinary tasks are also present.
I wish you a lifetime of joy, peace, creativity, and good balance!
Introduction, links to the series, and the booklist.. (Bookmark this page to check for new posts and updates)
Above is the Oxford pub where writers C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien used to meet up to discuss writing and life. They dubbed it "The Bird and Baby."
I adore reading, and few books are as dear as the ones I fell in love with during childhood. Upon learning to make characters, setting, and plot come to life in one's own head -- the magic of imagination kicking in -- a kid is never quite the same again. Children's stories give us our first peeks into others' inner lives, teaching us lessons we never had to suffer through and helping us develop empathy.
I'd like to argue that the children's stories we loved shouldn't be left behind when we grow up. It is a lovely thing to be able to share old favorites with the kids who come into our lives, but those books have value for us too. It is a joy to get to take those fun journeys with beloved characters all over again. We remember our beginnings. And a well-written children's book reminds us that we are coming of age in varied ways throughout our lives.
So why British books? Many of the books near the top of my childhood favorites list hail from British authors, which has admittedly turned me into an Anglophile. Also, almost all of my ancestors are from the British Isles; a literary time-line doesn't have to go back very far before I'm essentially reading family history. But those reasons aren't the most compelling. What truly draws me in is the gifts that come with reading original works from a long-lived people, tracing history and culture but also a literary tradition. I would argue that the children's literary tradition in the British Isles is just as rich and valuable as the larger tradition that brought us Chaucer, Shakespeare, Austen, Dickens, Woolf, Browning, the Bronte sisters, Eliot, Kipling, Forster, Lawrence, and Auden, to name a few. And for those who love a good fantasy story, there is a lovely path to follow from ancient Beowulf to Harry Potter and beyond. Writers such as Sir Thomas Malory, John Bunyan, George McDonald, Edith Nesbit, J.R.R. Tolkien, Lucy Boston, and C.S. Lewis dipped into British history and folklore to create stories that fire the imagination while exploring the human soul.
As much as I love C.S. Lewis' Narnia books and similar still-popular books, I won't explore those in this series -- at least not yet. What fascinates me is that there are older books that are slowly falling deeper into obscurity, yet they are wonderful reading adventures. These were often the books that the great writers of the last century read when they were growing up and they still have the power to delight, inform, and inspire. And what fun it is to sniff them out and share them here!
Enjoy!
Above is a detail from the Peter Pan sculpture in Kensington Gardens (London). Author James Barrie commissioned it. When it was done, he then had workers install it in the Gardens in the dark so it would seem to the children of London that the artwork appeared magically overnight.
Boston, The Green Knowe Series -- In these six novels, children living in an English manor house almost a millennium old travel up and down in time to meet each other and have adventures. Genres: Action/Adventure, Low Fantasy.
Boston, The Sea Egg -- Brothers Toby and Joe are on holiday on the Cornish coast when they come across a mysterious rock that looks like an oversized egg. Sure enough, it hatches! Genres: Action/Adventure, Low Fantasy
Boston, Nothing Said -- Libby leaves the city behind to stay with a family friend in the countryside and soon finds herself in a beautiful, compelling world of meadows, woods, gardens, and rivers. Genres: Nature Fiction
Hull and Whitlock, The Far-Distant Oxus – Three English school children have adventures in the Exmoor countryside while their parents are away. They ride horses across windswept moors, camp out under the stars, and build a raft to journey to the sea, but there are many other adventures to be had too. (This is a wonderful gift book if you have a horse-loving kid in your life.) Genre: Action/Adventure.
Jerome, Three Men in a Boat – In this humor story for adults, three young men and a rambunctious dog set off to explore the Thames between London and Oxford -- often with disastrous results. Genres: Action/Adventure, Humor, Travelogue.
Lucas, The Slowcoach – An anonymous stranger sends a family a horse-drawn Gypsy caravan. Off the kids go to explore the historic spots and back roads of their native England… Genres: Action/Adventure, Travelogue.
Ransome, Swallows & Amazons Series -- This series of twelve adventure books take place in the 1930s and offer everything from shipwrecks and pirates to ice sleds and gold mines. Genres: Action/Adventure.
Uttley, A Traveller in Time – A visit to her ancestors’ Derbyshire farm turns into a time travel adventure for Penelope. Soon she learns secrets that may just be her family’s undoing. Genres: Low Fantasy.
Companion Posts:
How the Heather Looks – This is the book that inspired the British Reading Adventure project. Come along for the ride as a family in the 1950s goes looking for traces of children’s stories of yesteryear. (The blog post about this book also explains more about our family project to read classic children's books and then someday explore the settings in person.)
Children’s Literature Cookbooks – Read classic children’s books and then head to the kitchen to whip up the same treats you read about. This is a great way to bring books alive for kids!
Cherry Cake and Ginger Beer – Jane Brocket’s books peep into British children’s literature, giving ideas for fun things to do and cook.
The British Reading Adventure List:
If your library doesn't have these books, try interlibrary loan or online used booksellers.
Fiction for the Very Young Edith Blyton -- The Noddy series L. Leslie Brooke -- Ring o’ Roses, Johnny Crow’s Garden, Golden Goose Book, The Roundabout Turn Randolph Caldecott John Cunliffe – The Postman Pat stories Joseph Jacobs – English Fairy Tales A. A. Milne – The Winnie the Pooh books Beatrix Potter – The Fairy Caravan, etc. Robert Louis Stevenson – A Child’s Garden of Verses
Children’s Fiction (Also see the list of Carnegie Medal winners and the New York Review Children's Collection.) Eleanor Atkinson – Greyfriars Bobby Reverend W. Awdry – Thomas the Tank Engine James Barrie – Peter Pan Enid Blyton – The Circus of Adventure, The Folk of the Faraway Tree, etc. Mr Galliano’s Circus, The Secret of Spriggy Holes, The Treasure Hunters Famous Five series, Malory Tower series, Twins at St Clare’s series Michael Bond – Paddington Bear stories L. M. Boston – The Children of Green Knowe series, Nothing Said Pamela Brown -- A Swish of the Curtain Frances Hodgson Burnett – Little Lord Fauntleroy, A Little Princess, The Secret Garden Lewis Carroll – Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, Through the Looking Glass Pauline Clarke – The Return of the Twelves Roald Dahl – Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, etc. Mrs. (Juliana) Ewing – The Story of a Short Life, Jackanapes Ruby Ferguson – Children at the Shop, Jill books, Lady Rose and Mrs. Memmary Eve Garnett – The Family from One End Street Kenneth Grahame – Wind in the Willows, Reluctant Dragon, etc. Elizabeth Janet Gray – Adam of the Road Katherine Hull and Pamela Whitlock – The Far-Distant Oxus, Escape to Persia, The Oxus in Summer, and Crowns Rudyard Kipling – Stalky & Co, Puck of Pook’s Hill, Rewards and Fairies, etc. C. S. Lewis – Narnia series, etc. Hilda Lewis – The Ship that Flew E. V. Lucas – The Slowcoach Hugh Lofting – Dr. Doolittle series Captain Marryat – Children of the New Forest George Macdonald – The Princess and the Goblin Gavin Maxwell – Ring of Bright Water, The Otter’s Tale E. Nesbit – The Railway Children, etc. Mary Norton – The Magic Bedknob, the Borrowers series Philippa Pearce – Tom’s Midnight Garden M. Pardoe – The Far Island, Bunkle series, Argle’s Mist (Celtic Britain), Argle’s Causeway (Norman England) Howard Pyle – Robin Hood, Otto of the Silver Hand Arthur Ransome – Swallows & Amazons, Swallowdale, The Child’s Book of the Seasons, etc. J. K. Rowling – The Harry Potter stories Margery Sharp – The Rescuers, etc. Robert Louis Stevenson – Treasure Island, Kidnapped, etc. Noel Streatfeild -- Circus Shoes, Tennis Shoes, Ballet Shoes, Traveling Shoes, etc. Rosemary Sutcliffe – The Shield Ring, etc. P. L. Travers – Mary Poppins series, Gingerbread Shop, etc. Alison Uttley – A Traveler in Time, Little Grey Rabbit Henry Williamson – Tarka the Otter
Young Adult and Adult Fiction Alfred, Lord Tennyson – Idylls of the King Richard Adams – Watership Down Jane Austen – Emma, Sense and Sensibility, Pride and Prejudice, Mansfield Park, Northanger Abbey, Persuasion Richard Doddridge Blackmore – Lorna Doone Charlotte Bronte – Jane Eyre, Villette Emily Bronte – Wuthering Heights John Bunyan – Pilgrim’s Progress Geoffrey Chaucer – The Canterbury Tales Daniel Dafoe – Moll Flanders Charles Dickens – The Pickwick Papers, David Copperfield, Oliver Twist, A Tale of Two Cities, Great Expectations, etc. Daphne du Maurier – Rebecca, Jamaica Inn, etc. Robert Browning – “Childe Rowland to the Dark Tower Came” George Eliot – Adam Bede, The Mill on the Floss, Silas Marner, Middlemarch Eric Ennion – House on the Shore E. M. Forster – A Passage to India, Where Angels Fear to Tread, A Room with a View, Howard’s End, Maurice, The Longest Journey Elizabeth Gaskell – Cranford, North and South, Mary Barton, etc. Thomas Hardy – Tess of the d’Urbervilles, Far from the Maddening Crowd Christina Hole – English Folk Heroes Robert Hunt – Popular Romances of the West of England Jerome K. Jerome – Three Men in a Boat Eleanore Jewett – The Hidden Treasure of Glaston Charles Kingsley – Westward Ho!, The Water Babies, Hypatia, Hereward the Wake D. H. Lawrence – Sons and Lovers, Lady Chatterley’s Lover, etc. Laurie Lee – Cider with Rosie, The Edge of Day John Milton – Paradise Lost Hope Muntz – The Golden Warrior Barbara Picard – Tales of the British People Rosamund Pilcher – The Shell Seekers Sir Walter Scott – Ivanhoe, Rob Roy, etc. Caroline Dale Snedeker – The White Isle Rosemary Sutcliffe – Warrior Scarlet, The Lantern Bearers, etc. J. R. R. Tolkien – The Hobbit, Lord of the Rings Sir Thomas Malory – Le Morte d’Arthur Robert Smith Surtees – Jorrocks’ Jaunts and Jollities Unknown -- Beowulf T. H. White – The Once and Future King, Mistress Masham’s Repose, etc. P. G. Wodehouse – Jeeves and Wooster stories, etc. Virginia Woolf – A Room of One’s Own, Mrs Dalloway, To the Lighthouse, Orlando
History Leonard Cottrell – Seeing Roman Britain Jacquetta Hawkes – Early Britain Geoffrey of Monmouth – Historia
Travelogues and Guides 1851 -- Lavengro by George Henry Borrow (also The Romany Rye and Wild Wales) 1880s (fiction) – Three Men in a Boat by Jerome K. Jerome 1904 – A Wanderer in London – E. V. Lucas 1908 (fiction) -- The Slowcoach by E. V. Lucas 1933 – English Journey by J.B. Priestley 1958 – How the Heather Looks by Joan Bodger 1968 – Journey Through Britain by John Hillaby 1982 – Kingdom by the Sea by Paul Theroux 1984 – A Matter of Wales by Jan Morris 1994 – Notes from a Small Island by Bill Bryson 2002 – Once Upon a Time in Great Britain: A Travel Guide to the Sights and Settings of your Favorite Children’s Stories by Melanie Wentz
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I'd like to thank my mother for always taking us to the library. Even if we were living somewhere just for the summer, she'd take us to get a temporary local card. And thanks, too, to her friend Ms. Elaine who knew an awful lot about children's books and shared lists with our family.
After four years living in Northern California, the seasons of North Georgia are rather seductive. Now I am often surrounded by nature's clues to where we are in the calendar year, and I love the way this orients me. Goofy? Perhaps. But true. I remember feeling a sense of excitement when I began attending the Episcopal church during my college days and joined their pattern of celebrating the Liturgical year. Maybe it is somehow listening to the generations upon generations of farmers in my ancestry --following the calendar, the almanac, and nature's signs to know when to plant, forage, hunt, or harvest. Whatever the origin, it is appreciating and being grateful for the present. It is a way of being in sync with the world around me.
Eli spent most of his life (so far) in a place with milder weather patterns and fewer obviously-seasonal plants, so whole forests of bare-limbed trees full of winter sunshine are new. He doesn't articulate noticing the change, yet our nature walks are now full of bouncing and pointing up at the sky and scrunching in the brown leaves. I want to encourage that. I would like to nurture his sense of appreciation and gratitude for the present as well as help him be in sync with his world.
This line of thinking puts me in mind of the spot in California where we always took St. Paddy's Day photos, and how taking photos of the same landscape over time can help you appreciate how much it changes according to the season and weather conditions. (Click HERE to see the wild, rolling hills of California in varied shades of green.)
Hmmm. Why not go on a hunt for signs of winter and capture them with a camera? We could zoom in on specific effects of winter but also take broad photos of the landscape that we can print out in the summertime and bring back for comparison.
Thus Eli and I embarked on our project. But how to approach it? I could take all the photos, but that wouldn't give Eli the freedom to capture what he sees from his perspective, and I think there is value in that freedom. He has a Fisher-Price digital camera for kids, but it is better for a rambunctious two or three year-old. It can take abuse well yet gives small, low-resolution photos that are blurred unless the camera is kept quite still. Now that Eli is older and more careful, I want him to have better results.
Our old point-and-shoot Sony camera doesn't get used much now that I have an iPhone, so I decided to test Eli on it. I adjusted the padded carrying case so Eli could wear it bandolier-style. So the camera had less chance of falling, Eli had a choice of wearing the camera's wrist strap (in a cow-hitch to make it a little tighter) or attaching it to the case. I admit that I had visions of the camera shattering in a million pieces or my child doing a face-first splat because he was too busy taking pictures to watch for tree roots. But we talked a little about safety before we started and he did great!
Eli took forty photos. (Thank goodness for rechargable batteries and no film needed!) "You can put 'em on the bwog, Mama!" Here are a few of our favorites...
The wood where we walked is a place I walked with my parents when I was growing up. And it has lots of memories from solo adventures and walks with friends as a young adult. Sharing it with Eli on a sunny winter afternoon was bliss. I think we'll be back often, capturing the seasons and the years as we go.
(I think the white wildflower Eli found is an early bloodroot.)
Lovely day after day with dear family and friends. Chocolate. Presents and crumpled mounds of gift wrap. Cinnamony baking. New games and toys. Winking Christmas lights.
Happy chaos.
Then this morning we got in the car and headed north into the mountains for a small escape. Through wintery weather and to a small stone hotel with a view of the Appalachian foothills...
A quiet room watching small flecks of snow fall over the mountains wouldn't be so peaceful and welcome if it wasn't for all the busy, joyous days before it.
JourneyLeaf is a tool to help me appreciate, preserve, and share those raggedy yet shining moments in everyday life. Joy requires practice. (To read more, click above on the word "ABOUT.")
The original words, images, and concepts on this blog are copyrighted. Please do not use them without my permission. Thank you!
My primary camera is a Canon EOS Digital Rebel T5 with a Sigma DC 18-200mm lens (1:3.5-6.3) or Canon EFS 18-55mm lens. On occasion I also use my iPhone 6. For crisper images (when I'm not in a hurry to grab the shot), I use a Dolica Proline B100 tripod. I often tweak my images using Adobe Photoshop Elements 8.
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