rainbows and herons

heron couldn’t sleep last night because she was thinking about rainbows. every time i would go into her room to tell her it was time to sleep (because she was talking or crying) she would ask me, in a puzzled tone, “where’s the rainbow?” we’d seen one in the sky the previous evening, & she hadn’t been able to get it out of her mind. she even woke up yesterday morning with the same concerned question.

“rainbows, like blue herons, are so special that they only show up at really important times” i told her. “it has to be rainy and sunny at the same time to see a rainbow.” i told her that if she fell asleep maybe she would dream about them. maybe she would dream about riding the rainbow like a slide from heaven to earth. “slide down the rainbow...” she said as she shifted sleepily over onto her tummy, closing her eyes.

a rainbow means promise--that everything is going to be okay.

this morning, again, she was obsessed with rainbows, and again wondering where the rainbow we’d seen had gone. i asked her if she’d dreamt of rainbows. “yeah...” she said, still not really understanding what dreaming is. so we made it a rainbow day. we looked at pictures of rainbows all morning long, & i showed her how to draw them. she knows her colors & letters. i showed her all the colors in the rainbow, the order they appear in. i showed her how she could draw a “c” inside another “c”, inside another “c”... then turn her paper on its side. a rainbow is a colorful, sideways “c”. see?

& i remembered, as i was teaching her about rainbows, that i was enamored with them as a young girl, too. i would fill up an entire page with rainbows, hundreds of them, built on top of each other. a giant rainbow city. a big one at the bottom of the page, to begin with. then one off to each side, then another one connecting those two, and so on. i would draw this for you now, but it would take me hours. and somehow i haven’t got hours anymore. because i am teaching my daughter about rainbows.

when josh & i were declaring our love to one another on a mototaxi in the jungle, on our way to the shantytown where i worked, dreaming of the children we would have (even though i believed it wouldn't be possible for me to bear children), a rainbow showed up out of nowhere. it was a perfectly sunny day, & at the moment we spoke of spending our lives together a sunshower + rainbow appeared. but things later fell apart; for years they fell apart. later i even got engaged to someone else. but called off the wedding. thank God, we called off the wedding. afterwards, so confused, but i started seeing rainbows. every single day, for forty days. the light through a prism, the screenprint on somebody’s shirt, a sticker on a car. somewhere God would show me a rainbow every single day. & i knew it meant something. & then i got this letter in the mail from josh, & then we were together again, forever.

a rainbow means promise--that everything is going to be okay.

now we have a little girl, and her name is heron, named after the great blue heron that shows up at really important times. she was promised to us. she's a walking rainbow (in so many ways), and she's turning two tomorrow. happy birthday, little blue!

the invitations

heron's 2nd birthday is this saturday, which means all of my free moments are spent doing two of my favorite things--planning a really big shindig (scenes from last year's party here) & making a really fantastic present for heron. saturday we'll be in seattle (where most of our extended family lives, & where josh has a show on sunday), having a brunch with heron's grandparents, aunts & uncles, cousins. her portland party is the following sunday. i'm giving myself until the 2nd party to finish making her gift.

: this year's invitations :

: scenes from heron's birthday picture photo shoot :

hmmm...what's at the other end of the string?

: ... a ferret!!! :

: the winning photo, minus ferret :

: last year's photo [enclosed with invitations] :

we make big babies

here is shepherd, 3 1/2 months old, wearing his new sam beam onesie made with love by our friend cara, who came over the other day with her baby mae. he is now wearing size 6 months, sometimes 9 or 12 months. he is one chubby kid, but so happy! josh said the other day, "shepherd is the reason women have babies." he's kind of a dream baby. he smiles, giggles, coos, flirts. all...day...long. he is sunshine.

friday afternoon snacktime

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caspar's first birthday

this past weekend we left portland for seattle to join in on our nephew caspar's first birthday festivities. my sister-in-law cris's birthday also happened to be that weekend, so we were able to celebrate with the ramsdales on saturday and the garrels clan on sunday. i didn't get any pictures at cris's party, but here are some from caspar's!

warning: this post's a little heavy on the photos, mostly of interest to family or muncie folk i would imagine :)

: heron and her "unka yak" :

: sara and asher b. :

: two friends with their baby boys :

: "chungee" and "chopper" :

: heron and aunt teal :

: solomon :

: shepherd and grandpa mike :

: marti :

: heron & the guys :

: teal & gala :

: heron and cousin cori :

: josh and alli :

: teal and ezra :

: heron & her cousins :

(watching wallace & grommit after a long day of play)

: brothers solomon, caspar, ezra :

: the birthday boy at bedtime :

happy birthday, caspar! you're such a sweetie!

friday picnic

teal garrels, on heron

"heron's really great to work with. we ended up with a pretty solid body of work at the end of this session. we still need some practice, but i think our 2 part harmonies are coming along nicely."

sprung rhythm

Somewhere
a black bear
has just risen from sleep
and is staring

down the mountain.
All night
in the brisk and shallow restlessness
of early spring

I think of her,
her four black fists
flicking the gravel,
her tongue

like a red fire
touching the grass,
the cold water.
There is only one question:

how to love this world.
I think of her
rising
like a black and leafy ledge

to sharpen her claws against
the silence
of the trees.
Whatever else

my life is
with its poems
and its music
and its glass cities,

it is also this dazzling darkness
coming
down the mountain,
breathing and tasting;

all day I think of her--
her white teeth,
her wordlessness,
her perfect love.

"Spring" by Mary Oliver