a son

We must have been deeply immersed in the self-delusion of impending parenthood to think that eleven days after a scheduled induction--which would actually be a very messy c-section, followed by five days of hospitalization that were almost worse than the c-section--I would be standing in a beautiful old church in the West Village for three hours with my husband and two small children, singing along with George Frideric Handel's Messiah. 

Yes, it was a ridiculous plan. But it did mean that for the past two months the strains of that marvelous work have been filling our home, sometimes the bass part, sometimes the alto, most often the entire chorale, bringing Christmas spirit and something to focus on aside from our own impatience. And it did not take long for us to feel that it had been written just for us at this particular moment of our lives. Even little Violet would warble with delight,

For unto us a child is born, 

Unto us a son is given...

Is there any better gift than a new baby?  Meet Thomas Townsend.

attitude of gratitude

During a discussion at the 92nd Street Y that I attended a few months ago, Diane Von Furstenberg, President of the Council of Fashion Designers of America, was asked if she had any advice to offer those in her industry who felt that they slaved away day after day, hoping for success but feeling invisible and unappreciated. She said: "When you reach my age, you look around you, at your children and grandchildren, your friends, the people in your life, the food in your refrigerator, the home in which you live. If these things make sense, then you are a success."

On this Thanksgiving, I am thankful...

 That I did not have to wait until I was in my sixties to learn this lesson. 

That I married someone who subtly challenged my assumptions that home and family were not my thing.  

For good food--and a husband who enjoys making it.

For bouncing golden curls and four-year-old logic. 

For an enormous belly (hopefully as enormous as it will ever be). 

That in a week my belly will be flatter and there will be another adorable little person by whom I will be endlessly charmed and refined.

For places to put things and everything in its place.

For all the people and places and moments of which my life is composed.

For what is real.  For everyday Grace.

constant cravings

After craving crepes for weeks, the other day I found myself staring at a refrigerator full of apples from our farm share and  had a sudden brainwave. Crepes with apple compote turned out to be easier than apple pie, and tastier. Forgive me for not measuring, but it's all to taste anyway. By the way, our other topping combinations were also worth mentioning: strawberry preserves with fresh cream cheese, brown sugar and lemon, and dulce de leche with dark chocolate. Who needs a neighborhood creperie if you have a kitchen (and these T-things)?

Apple Compote

apples, any variety, peeled and cubed

fresh-squeezed lemon juice

cinnamon, nutmeg, and cloves

brown sugar

water or juice

Combine all ingredients and simmer in cast iron skillet or saucepan for ten minutes, or until apples are soft and coming apart a bit and liquid has thickened. Serve warm.

Sweet Crepes

1 3/4 c whole wheat pastry flour

1/2 tsp salt

1/4 c sugar

2 c milk, room temp

3 eggs, room temp

5 tbs butter, melted
1 tsp vanilla

Mix dry ingredients, mix wet ingredients, pour wet into dry and whisk.  Refrigerate a minimum of 1 hour, overnight if possible.

first field trip

For me: Three tedious hours on an uncomfortable bus to do ten minutes of apple picking, for apples so mediocre that even she wouldn't eat them once we were home...

For her: Her first field trip! Apple picking! With her class! And her mommy! The stuff memories are made of...

Oh, to have that kind of childlike enthusiasm again, about anything.


(The flapper-style headdress?  Her "girl headband" made by friend William the night before.  She didn't take it off for forty-eight hours.)

road trip: wacky wednesdays on the I-91

It was kismet coming and going. On the way to Vermont we needed dinner and distraction, and we found the Thornes Market on Main Street in Northampton, MA, with great shops and food, including a purveyor of chocolates that was as serious about chocolate as I am. On the way back, we had two kids who needed a little diversion to break up the drive, and what did we find but the Dr. Seuss Memorial Sculpture Garden (catinthehat.org) in Springfield, MA, which absolutely blew the minds of our two little bookworms.

road trip: cornish, new hampshire

I can't help being overtaken by daydreams in a place like this, dreams of having my own vast lawns and gardens filled with art and perfect little nooks for sitting with a book, and a screened-porch where I and my friends (all artists and intellectuals, of course) could while away the afternoon in spirited conversation or casually enjoying one anothers talents. This particular place was the home of Augustus Saint-Gaudens, the prolific American sculptor whose early years in Paris figure heavily in David McCullough's The Greater Journey: American's In Paris (which I had just finished). The estate is now a national historic site (nps.gov/saga). Just a short drive over a covered bridge from Windsor County, Vermont and there we were. 

Many of Saint Gauden's original works are there--large, breathtaking memorials and smaller bas-relief portraits, as well as the kind of small cameos upon which he cut his artistic teeth, so to speak. We toured the house and then wandered on our own through the studio, styled after his favorite places in Italy. Ah, Someday, I think, but really, I was happy just to pretend it was mine for a day.

road trip: woodstock, vermont cont'd

Of course, we couldn't stay in Woodstock all the time. We had to go exploring. We had to make a return visit to the Vermont Country Store, where we had stocked up on weird and wonderful sundries last year. And there was no way I was spending time in Vermont without getting my fill of hot, crispy apple cider doughnuts. So we went north to Cold Hollow Cider Mill in Woodbury, with a scenic stop at the Joseph Smith Birthplace Memorial in Sharon (above) along the way.  We drove through the beautiful town of Stowe, then had dinner in up-and-coming food mecca (and state capitol) Montpelier, where we had delicious savory crepes at The Skinny Pancake. Next year we will be back to try NECI (New England Culinary Institute) and Salt, which are both farm-to-table and have impressive reputations.

  

In Quechee, next to Woodstock, we hiked along the gorge and ate at The Mill at Simon Pearce, though we had to drive to their alternate factory in Windsor to watch glass-blowing, as The Mill's factory had been completely decimated by Hurricane Irene. And while this part of Vermont seemed to have fewer mom-and-pop antique shops than up north, we did spend a couple of happy afternoons in the local antique malls. There were more country stores and cheese shops, yummy snacks at King Arthur Flour's culinary school, and a visit to Scotland-by-the-Yard, where we nabbed imported goods in honor of my husband's Scottish ancestry. We drove alongside low stone fences past pretty New England churches and through hills and valleys of well-kept old houses and farms. It was exactly what we came for.

road trip: woodstock, vermont

Last year we took in the fall colors up north near Burlington, on Lake Champlain. This year it was Woodstock and Quechee in Windsor County. Is there anywhere quite as autumnal as Vermont?

In Woodstock, besides wandering the picturesque main street with its resort-town shops, we explored the Billings Farm and Museum (billingsfarm.org), where dad and the kids took a wagon ride, fed sheep, saw cows being milked, petted newborn calves, and made butter, while Jane and I snuck off to the adjoining Marsh-Billings-Rockefeller National Historic Park for an estate tour. Later, we loaded up on locally-made cheeses and maple treats at nearby Sugarbush Farm. We came and went on winding country roads past red barns and tidy farmhouses, and in the evening it was a pleasure to go back to a renovated farmhouse of our own and cozy up in front of a fire while we watched Arsenic and Old Lace. I love vacation.

 

halloween scrapbook

She was bouncing with excitement by the time I picked her up from school, even before we put the costume on and the festivities began.  Halloween is made for soon-to-be-four-year-olds like mine, full of imagination and an affinity for dress-up play. I bought the dress from Etsy by chance last fall, before she gave a hoot about princesses or dressing up.  My rationale at the time was that it would be an easy thing to pile that curly blonde hair of hers up on top of her head, and the dress was hand-made and very reasonably priced.  Little did I know that, very shortly, princesses and brides were to become obsessions, or that while I was reviewing Sofia Coppola's Marie Antoinette for design ideas Violet would wander through, glance at the screen, and say in a dreamy voice, Who is that?  I want to be her.  Ever since, she has told anyone who would listen that she was going to be Marie Antoinette for Halloween. I am biased, but I think our miniature version may have surpassed the actual grande dame in both beauty and charm.  It is hard to imagine she would have lost her head otherwise.

vamping on the way out

with astronaut cleo and supergirl elsa at ballet

her ballet teacher 

the chaos of trick-or treating in the city (one of the few times i wish for the suburbs)

trick-or-treating with callie, madeline, and elsa in carnegie hill

a weary princess on her way home from trick-or-treating

spoooky season

We spent all of October getting in the mood for the holiday today, beginning with our purchase of Goodnight Goon, A Petrifying Parody after Violet begged for it on three separate visits to the bookstore, and continuing with multiple viewings of It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown and The Adventures of Ichabod (narrated by Bing Crosby). Violet and her daddy carved a pumpkin, we have been dancing non-stop to The Addams Family theme song, and on Saturday we trick-or-treated and played holiday-themed games at our church's autumn social.

The most memorable, mind-altering, dare I say breathtaking experience, however, was The Great Jack 'O Lantern Blaze in Hudson Valley, which their website(hudsonvalley.org) calls, "A land art installation informed by artists such as Michael Heizer, Robert Smithson, Donald Judd, and Andy Goldsworthy." They aren't kidding. More than 4,000 intricately carved pumpkins lit up the gardens of Van Cortlandt Manor, an historic house that once belonged to one of New York's most prominent families.

Our mouths were agape at life-sized dinosaurs made up entirely of pumpkins in one vignette, and delicate, lacy Celtic configurations in another. There were fish, butterflies, and of course, spooky ghosts and goblins.

The kids were into it, though, truth be told, no pumpkin could be as fascinating to them as the cheap holiday trinkets in the gift shop. Light sabers, anyone?

Happy Halloween!