Always Winter and Never Not Winter

This has been a crazy winter for those in the eastern United States. Storm after storm. Thunder-snow! I didn't even know that was a thing. Freezing rain. Ice pellets. And so much snow. Did I mention the snow? I really wanted to show a couple more winter pictures, but I think I've been guilty of over-sharing on Facebook lately. So, I'll just put them here.

It snowed enough to knock our mailboxes off their base. Then the snowplows knocked the base off its...um, whatever. Chris made this handy shelf out of the snow as a temporary solution. We still need to get all the cards and letters people send to us, after all.

You know how they say "Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night stays these couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds"? Well, our postal carrier brought us our mail, along with this helpful diagram showing us how to clear our mailboxes..

Did you see how much snow we got? It's so heavy--very wet snow. And we live on a very busy road where people zoom by at 50 mph. We laughed at this diagram. It didn't seem realistic. Anyway, Chris did the best he could to make the postal carrier's job easier. It's not exactly like this diagram, however.


Nathan got a sweet icicle and wanted a photo. In the second one, he was saying, "I'm cold! Stop taking pictures!" or something like that.

This is just a picture out the front window. We were in Manhattan. It's crazy enough to drive in New York City, but with the snow, wow. That's about all I can say. Wow. This road was pretty clear. Elsewhere, delivery trucks stop in the middle of the lane (because the curbside parking is full) while they make their deliveries. Anyway...

I'm still fairly cheerful. This winter is going much better than last winter. We have more wintery weather, but less wintery emotions. It has been around 50 degrees the last three days. We have so much snow and thick ice that it hasn't melted that much. Some water will melt, but it doesn't evaporate it just sits there. At night, the freezing temperatures come again and every morning we find ourselves in a slick, icy death trap. This last picture is one I took today, after three very warm days. There's a lot of snow! I'm showing you this because I thought I knew winter. This kind of winter is new and crazy to me.

The last week or so, birds have woken me up in the mornings. I love the sound of birds in the mornings. Yesterday I watched about eight robins playing in our backyard. Spring is coming any day now...

I'm awake!

When we were teenagers and planning to come home late from work or play, my mom would tell us, "Make sure to wake me up when you get home because I can't sleep until I know you're safe." 

I know: to you, it doesn't make sense. But I understand perfectly. We obeyed this rule. Wake Mom up. Tell her what time it was (so she would know we came home on time). And enjoy the conversation as she asked us about our evening. 

You see, Mom made no sense when she was tired. Or half-asleep. And it was hilarious. I have no specific memories of these conversations, but I do remember that we would laugh about them the next day. We loved telling stories about waking Mom up to tell her we were home.

I am nothing like my mom. 

That's just a little joke.

Ammon has had a lot of trouble sleeping lately. We're working on it. Last night, he came in my room and said, "Mom, I can't sleep. Do you have any suggestions for me?"

I plainly remember telling him to read a book. He said, "What?" in a confused way. I explained to him that reading would help his mind relax, especially if he read something he had read before. He laughed and left. I wasn't sure what was so funny, so I just went back to sleep.

This morning, Ammon told me the conversation from his point of view.

Ammon: "I can't sleep. Do you have any suggestions for me?"

Mom (that's me): "You can read a book or renew your crutches."

Ammon: "What?"

Mom: "You know, when you're awake, you can dream about stuff like Halloween, and then you dream about it again. That's how you renew your crutches."

Ammon: "Okay." [laughs]

See, unlike my own mom, I make sense when I'm tired.

So much to do

Nathan is supposed to read a book called Wilbur and Orville Wright for his language arts. He has been resisting it and resisting it. I asked him to read it again yesterday and he refused (again). Then he sighed and said, "Mom, the real reason I don't want to read that book right now is because I'm already reading *six books. I'm reading Harry Potter, Zits, the new Diary of a Wimpy Kid, The Book of Mormon, Percy Jackson, and, oh, that's only five. Wait! I started The Lord of the Rings the other day!"

Well, that makes good sense. That's a lot going on. So I added, "And, as a family, we're reading Narnia and the Bible." He said they don't count because he's not reading them on his own.

This is one of the great things about homeschooling my kids. I can see the reason he's not fulfilling his assignment isn't because he's lazy or forgetful, neglectful or unprepared. He's pretty busy with worthwhile things.

That being said, he still has to read the assigned book! Maybe I'll read it to him while he builds with Legos. (Also important in this house.)



*In case you are curious, Nathan reads Harry Potter in the evenings before he goes to sleep. He reads The Book of Mormon right after lunch. Nathan and I are reading Percy Jackson during our read-aloud time in school. Zits and Diary of a Wimpy Kid are light reading for when he's bored in the day. And he's only read about two pages of The Lord of the Rings, so I'm not really sure that counts on the list. :)

Bustin' Out Rhymes

Ammon has been working on a poetry unit in his language arts course. He gets to analyze poems for rhythmic foot and rhyme scheme, and then attempt to create a poem following the model. I have been looking forward to this unit with Ammon for a while because I know how much he likes poetry. I really enjoy watching him create a poem. I'll explain the assignment and he'll look into the distance and mutter to himself for about a minute. Then he'll say, "Okay. I got it," and write it out. He has no idea writing rhymes is not that easy for everybody.

That's the background. The other day, we analyzed "My Evening Prayer" by Charles H. Gabriel. We only had two stanzas and then Ammon's assignment was to create a third stanza following the model. I understand that Mr. Gabriel wrote a very sincere, heartfelt poem. Ammon can be sincere and heartfelt, but he is also a 13-year-old boy with a charmingly silly disposition.

My Evening Prayer by Charles H. Gabriel
If I have wounded any soul today,
If I have caused one foot to go astray,
If I have walked in my own wilful way ---
Good Lord, forgive!

If I have uttered idle words or vain,
If I have turned aside from want or pain,
Lest I myself should suffer through the strain ---
Good Lord, forgive!

3rd stanza by Ammon Woods
If I have planned what is not to be plotted,
If I have striped what's supposed to be dotted,
If I have taught what's not to be taughted ---
Good Lord, forgive!

I enjoyed the result, but I enjoyed watching him write it even more.

My thoughts of the week.

Did you know that one of the earliest typewriters was called a literary piano?

That phrase, literary piano, has been in my mind for days, ever since I first heard it. I love music. I love words. And I love the idea of creating music out of words with a literary piano. It certainly paints a different picture than using a word processor.

When I served as a missionary, I followed rules and guidelines. One of the rules limited the music we could listen to. In our mission, we were allowed to listen to the Mormon Tabernacle Choir and a few select faith-based musicians. I didn't have any cassette tapes of my own (yes, I'm that old), but I happily listened to the other missionaries' tapes. No one listened to the Choir. I guess the best genre description of the music we listened to is "Mormon pop." This is music that has an audience and has a place in the world. However, it's not something I've listened to before or since my mission. 

One day, my companion and I knocked on the door of a Polish man. My companion's father was Polish--which was obvious by her last name. This man was so excited to make that connection. He welcomed us into his home to talk about his home country. There had recently been a television program focusing on the history and culture of Poland. The man had recorded it on VHS and he popped it in his VCR to show us. Another mission rule was that we weren't supposed to watch any television. I was very uncomfortable feeling like I was breaking a rule, but it seemed wrong to reject his offer. (In retrospect, it was not a big deal to watch the program.) After a few minutes, the music of Chopin filled the room. Frederic Chopin was Polish. Chopin was my favorite composer before my mission. As soon as his music started, I felt my entire body relax. I felt tension leaving my shoulders. I fell into the music. At that moment, I realized the complexity and beauty of his music was far beyond anything I had listened to for several months. And I felt it more than heard it. 

Last year, for my book club, we read a book by Sophie Kinsella. It was so entertaining and I really enjoyed it. She writes a light-hearted, modern, romantic comedy style of novel. I liked the book club book so much, that I quickly read ten or eleven of her books. They are obviously quick reads. (If you're looking for recommendations, I'd go with the Shopaholic series and I've Got Your Number.) Anyway, after reading her books for a few weeks, I picked up a book that I've always meant to read but never quite got around to: Anne of Green Gables by L.M. Montgomery. I have trouble describing what happened during that first chapter. My ears relaxed. My brain relaxed. I fell into the words. The complexity and beauty of Montgomery's writing was beyond anything I had read for a while. I definitely felt it more than analyzed it. L.M. Montgomery must have written her book with a literary piano.

There is a lot to be said for good story telling. There is also much to be said for truly beautiful word use. Writing for the sake of beauty.

When God created the earth, He created beauty. The earth is useful, purposeful, and beautiful. Notice in these verses that beauty is one of the stated purposes of Creation:

"And out of the ground made the Lord God to grow every tree that is pleasant to the sight, and good for food" (Genesis 2:9).

"Yea, and all things which come of the earth, in the season thereof, are made for the benefit and the use of man, both to please the eye and to gladden the heart" (Doctrine and Covenants 59:18)

Wonderfully, God extends the privilege to us to add to the natural beauty of the earth. 

"God left the world unfinished for man to work his skill upon. He left the electricity in the cloud, the oil in the earth. He left the rivers unbridged and the forests unfelled and the cities unbuilt. God gives to man the challenge of raw materials, not the ease of finished things. He leaves the pictures unpainted and the music unsung and the problems unsolved, that man might know the joys and glories of creation" (President Thomas S. Monson).

In God's wisdom, he allows us to create because it deepens and enlarges our earthly experience and ennobles us as we become closer to Him through the process. The next quote is a bit long, but it's worth the effort to read.

"The desire to create is one of the deepest yearnings of the human soul. No matter our talents, education, backgrounds, or abilities, we each have an inherent wish to create something that did not exist before.

"Everyone can create. You don’t need money, position, or influence in order to create something of substance or beauty.

"Creation brings deep satisfaction and fulfillment. We develop ourselves and others when we take unorganized matter into our hands and mold it into something of beauty—and I am not talking about the process of cleaning the rooms of your teenage children.

"You might say, “I’m not the creative type. When I sing, I’m always half a tone above or below the note. I cannot draw a line without a ruler. And the only practical use for my homemade bread is as a paperweight or as a doorstop.”If that is how you feel, think again, and remember that you are spirit daughters of the most creative Being in the universe. Isn’t it remarkable to think that your very spirits are fashioned by an endlessly creative and eternally compassionate God? Think about it—your spirit body is a masterpiece, created with a beauty, function, and capacity beyond imagination.

"But to what end were we created? We were created with the express purpose and potential of experiencing a fulness of joy.  Our birthright—and the purpose of our great voyage on this earth—is to seek and experience eternal happiness. One of the ways we find this is by creating things.

"If you are a mother, you participate with God in His work of creation—not only by providing physical bodies for your children but also by teaching and nurturing them. If you are not a mother now, the creative talents you develop will prepare you for that day, in this life or the next.

"You may think you don’t have talents, but that is a false assumption, for we all have talents and gifts, every one of us. The bounds of creativity extend far beyond the limits of a canvas or a sheet of paper and do not require a brush, a pen, or the keys of a piano. Creation means bringing into existence something that did not exist before—colorful gardens, harmonious homes, family memories, flowing laughter.

"What you create doesn’t have to be perfect. So what if the eggs are greasy or the toast is burned? Don’t let fear of failure discourage you. Don’t let the voice of critics paralyze you—whether that voice comes from the outside or the inside.

"If you still feel incapable of creating, start small. Try to see how many smiles you can create, write a letter of appreciation, learn a new skill, identify a space and beautify it.

"Nearly a century and a half ago, President Brigham Young spoke to the Saints of his day. “There is a great work for the Saints to do,” he said. “Progress, and improve upon and make beautiful everything around you. Cultivate the earth, and cultivate your minds. Build cities, adorn your habitations, make gardens, orchards, and vineyards, and render the earth so pleasant that when you look upon your labors you may do so with pleasure, and that angels may delight to come and visit your beautiful locations. In the mean time continually seek to adorn your minds with all the graces of the Spirit of Christ.”

"The more you trust and rely upon the Spirit, the greater your capacity to create. That is your opportunity in this life and your destiny in the life to come. Sisters, trust and rely on the Spirit. As you take the normal opportunities of your daily life and create something of beauty and helpfulness, you improve not only the world around you but also the world within you."  (Dieter F. Uchtdorf)

I find myself creating beauty in small, but meaningful ways. I find beauty in order and organization. When I do simple chores, like the endless laundry, I see it as service for my family. Recognizing that it is true service changes the entire process from a chore to a joy. Since it is a joy and not a burden to me, I make it beautiful. I create beauty because of the way I do this simple chore. Of course (and hopefully), I add more meaningful beauty to the world. I feel like I create beauty when I nurture and build my children. We paint together. We sing together. We read works of literature together. We create a happy home together. The stresses and anxieties of the world around me melt away as I create a beautiful life with my children. 

I will now quote two of my favorite passages of literary music. Enjoy this snippet from A.A. Milne as he describes the course of a river in a way that makes my heart sing. This is from The House at Pooh Corner: 

"BY the time it came to the edge of the Forest the stream had grown up, so that it was almost a river, and, being grown-up, it did not run and jump and sparkle along as it used to do when it was younger, but moved more slowly. For it knew now where it was going, and it said to itself, 'There is no hurry. We shall get there some day.' But all the little streams higher up in the Forest went this way and that, quickly, eagerly, having so much to find out before it was too late."

There are a few passages in books that are so beautiful, I have to read and reread and reread them before I can go on. One such passage is from The Magician's Nephew by C.S. Lewis. It's when Aslan creates the world of Narnia through song. I love it. It’s another long passage, but I made it much shorter than it is in the book.

"In the darkness something was happening at last. A voice had begun to sing. It was very far away and Digory found it hard to decide from what direction it was coming. Sometimes it seemed to come from all directions at once.

"Sometimes he almost thought it was coming out of the earth beneath them. Its lower notes were deep enough to be the voice of the earth herself. There were no words. There was hardly even a tune. But it was, beyond comparison, the most beautiful noise he had ever heard. It was so beautiful he could hardly bear it. ...

"Then two wonders happened at the same moment. One was that the voice was suddenly joined by other voices; more voices than you could possibly count.

"They were in harmony with it, but far higher up the scale: cold, tingling, silvery voices. The second wonder was that the blackness overhead, all at once, was blazing with stars. They didn't come out gently one by one, as they do on a summer evening. One moment there had been nothing but darkness; next moment a thousand, thousand points of light leaped out - single stars, constellations, and planets, brighter and bigger than any in our world. There were no clouds. The new stars and the new voices began at exactly the same time. If you had seen and heard it, as Digory did, you would have felt quite certain that it was the stars themselves which were singing, and that it was the First Voice, the deep one, which had made them appear and made them sing....The Voice on the earth was now louder and more triumphant; but the voices in the sky, after singing loudly with it for a time, began to get fainter. And now something else was happening.

"Far away, and down near the horizon, the sky began to turn grey. A light wind, very fresh, began to stir. The sky, in that one place, grew slowly and steadily paler. You could see shapes of hills standing up dark against it. All the time the Voice went on singing.

"There was soon light enough for them to see one another's faces. The Cabby and the two children had open mouths and shining eyes; they were drinking in the sound, and they looked as if it reminded them of something. ...

"The eastern sky changed from white to pink and from pink to gold. The Voice rose and rose, till all the air was shaking with it. And just as it swelled to the mightiest and most glorious sound it had yet produced, the sun arose."

In conclusion, now you know some of the rambling thoughts I have had in the week since I first heard the phrase "literary piano."