I wish the ladies were this talented

but then they might break their eggs!

signs of winter

The Eloise Butler Wildflower Garden, the beautiful enclosed garden where the boys and I have spent several mornings or afternoons, is now pretty much closed for the season. There is one last weekend day that it should be open, and I think we’ll go, but after that, just like every year, the garden will be left to the native flora and fauna until spring, as sure a sign of winter's coming as anything. The 15-acre garden and bird sanctuary, the oldest in the nation, is a bit of a lovely secret. It is surrounded by a high fence and a lockable gate on either end, tucked away in an also beautiful park that has clear views of downtown, but looks like it could be far from any city. J and I were married in that park, in a wooded glade under a giant burr oak. We had our reception at the top of the hill behind it, in a building built in the 1920’s by the Works Progress Administration.

I think it would be fair to say that the location represented the fact that J and I can find God anywhere, but perhaps most easily through witnessing the vast abundance of creation. A church building can’t contain that in the same meaningful way for either of us, though the group of people assembled that day certainly represented what we knew then as our family, related or not. Coming back to the place we were married is a joy – alone or together, and we’ve done it often since that June day seven years ago. Now we’re usually accompanied by two little boys who don’t yet understand the significance of that place for us, but seem impressed by its beauty all the same.

The garden is just behind that glade, up a hill and on the other side of a marsh inhabited by bullfrogs and wood ducks. I think people go to the garden in hopes of seeing a riot of many kinds of flowers – all that abundance in its glory, like you see in the wildflower calendars. In fact, that isn’t really what you find there—Minnesota not being Switzerland,exactly, or even Montana. There are wooded areas, a small marsh, hills and meadows. There are many flowers, rare and common, buzzing with insects. There is a spectacular view at the very top of the highest hill. But what’s really spectacular about this garden isn’t the grand canvass of trees and flowers, but the details. The wild ginger, the mushrooms on rotting logs, the insects that you know must belong to some native plant, but that you’ve never seen before. My boys start to giggle every time they go through the gate, because the path is so springy from the thick layer of wood chips, spread carefully by volunteers to keep us on the path and prevent damage to the garden. The garden is a reminder to me to look – to let down the defenses we city dwellers need to survive the constant assault on our senses. The first thing I usually notice is the wonderful smell of decaying leaves. As I walk, I notice birdsongs, the texture of bark, lichen, and rusty tannin pooled in the marsh, the tiny detailed flowers that would never show up in a landscape photograph.

None of that takes any explaining to my boys – they don’t know how not to see and listen and observe, at least for now.

I love to think about the garden in winter. It must be beautiful covered in snow, its paths unmarred by heavy human footsteps, the birds and other animals growing a little bolder every week as we leave them be for awhile. It must be quite a shock to them when the gates open up again in the spring. When those gates open, we’ll come again, delighted to see the shoots of green promise under the trees and all over the meadow, careful of the birds as they worry over their young, and happy to stretch our legs and amble a bit after a long Minnesota winter. Meanwhile, I’m very grateful to visionaries like Eloise Butler and Theodore Wirth —people who made efforts and choices on behalf of what might happen even after their lifetimes. When my boys are a little older, I hope to teach them about that too, because that was another reason J and I chose this particular park for our wedding. It represented what could happen if a group of people sacrificed and made an effort on behalf of something for a greater purpose than only our perceived immediate needs, having a longer vision than that of our own lifetime. That is, after all, what we do when we set out to build a family.

Isaiah 55:12

You will go out in joy and be led forth in peace; the mountains and hills will burst into song before you, and all the trees of the field will clap their hands.

Early October

The boys helped Meag*an plant a tree to replace our lost elm. that tree was so big, you couldn't even see our house on Google Maps. We're also planting a couple of dwarf apple trees (Honeycrisp and Harelson).


The zoo. A while back, I cut a jump rope in half, tied each piece to one side of the stroller, and started asking the boys to hold the handles and walk alongside. Lo and behold they did, and we can walk quite a ways this way, even in a crowd. People always laugh when they see us.

Sometimes they use the highly original phrase "double trouble". I always wonder what would happen if I just start laughing really hard, like I'd never heard that one before. Would that make me look like an idiot, or them? Forgive me if that sounds a little harsh, but I've heard that about 1000 times by now, it feels like. One lady even told me where I could buy a t-shirt that says that. I once heard a mom of one say to her friend as I walked by, "Twins! If that was me, I'd shoot myself in the head!" Trust me lady, you wouldn't. For one thing, that would leave your children motherless, and you, well, dead. Ugh. I get a little tired of the negativity sometimes. It started before they were even born (though friends and family were of course wonderful to us!) Even fellow moms at our Early Childhood class sometimes make it a bit too clear they'd never want twins. I wish they'd keep it to themselves at least - for what it's worth, twins are a lot of work, but so are a lot of things, and they are also a lot of fun. I wouldn't trade the experience for the world, warts and all! They are my children, and I love them, and they are double blessings, not trouble. At least not more than any other healthy two-year olds.


The zoo monorail in the pouring rain.






The wood ducks at the brand-new Minnesota exhibit.

Sometimes Ollie just needs a smooch. I showed him this picture, and now he keeps coming up to me, kissing me, and saying "take a picture, Mama!"


And N needs some good reading for the way home. Sometimes they babble, bicker, or sing away in the car (N's latest version of Jesus loves the little children is Jesus loves the little grownups. Then he sings "Zacchaeus was a wee little man and Ollie shouts "Get down from there!". ) Otherwise it's dead silence, each boy completely engrossed in a book. I cannot tell you how completely in love with books they are. They have a lovely new habit of grabbing a book, sitting on the couch or in a chair, and just flipping through it for a while. The other day, N was reading a book in the car and he was so into it, he didn't want to come out. I picked him up and stood him on the sidewalk, and he walked all the way to the front door with his face still in the book.


Of course, it's even better when grandma reads to them and Auntie J*en and Zo*e come to visit.


Ollie is very proud of his snow boots.



Zo*e is mobile! She scoots all over the place on her tummy.

She's also eating and gobbling it all up. Runs in the family!


"Cwaffs" Both boys have a very rudimentary grasp of using scissors, and they're obsessed with stickers. Especially on the bathroom floor... We finally have a really decent table and chair set, and since we got that we've been doing a lot more crafty stuff. Perfect timing with winter coming. You know, I'm still not certain whether either of the boys are right or left handed. Every time I think I know, they surprise me by crayoning or something with the other hand. If I hand them something in a neutral way, they're both inconsistent. I think that possibly O may be a lefty, but I'm just not sure. I do know that whenever the boys walk hand-in-hand lately, O is on the right.


On Tuesday, Grandma is going to let us have Zo*e all to ourselves for a bit in the afternoon while she goes to the doctor. Yeah!

At the Wildlflower Garden

The beautiful Eloise Butler Wildflower Garden - a gem of a garden that's located right behind the place where we got married. The boys and I have walked most of the trail over the last two Saturdays, some of it in pouring rain, and quite happily.









Well, there was a threat of a sit-down strike about halfway through last time. They both lay down in the path and insisted that they were babies who couldn't walk. (Oh, I just love the "I'm a baby" stage. Almost as much as the "I do it "my byself!" stage that's happening concurrently. Did you know that my boys can drive cars and chop vegetables with sharp knives? Ask them sometime - they'll tell you all about it.)

I wondered how I'd get two boys out of there if they both completely melted down at the same time, but we got our act together. I just sat under a tree and prayed until they asked me whether we could keep going.




Here they're pretending that the bench is a mailbox, and putting "mail" (leaves) through the slats.


A birdbath that had a bit less water in it after the boys were done with it.

We spent part of the same morning playing in the nursery at the church where Daddy works.



Here they're pretending to be "taaaal trees".




A well-earned picnic lunch outside the church, waiting for Daddy to be done so we could all go home. Why does he have to be with all those other kids all the time anyway?

From September

Here are a few shots from September - I'm trying to catch up!

Grandma came over with Zo*e the other day and spent a little time in our backyard until Auntie J*n came to pick her up.



She is such a sweet and happy baby.




And she has such a silly uncle...


That's our faithful Marcy, my favorite hen. I can have a favorite chicken, can't I?


When you're a twin, a see-saw is a beautiful thing.



Doesn't N have beautiful big, blue eyes? I know I'm his mother, but still..

busy, busy

We have a couple of high-energy boys these days. Here's a half-hour at Hiawa*tha Park:

And they're off!


"Mama! Watch me jump!"










Oli*ver prefers to scale the outside of all the playground equipment, climbing right up and over the walls rather than using the ladders or stairs intended for that purpose. He has a knack for making the other parents look at me (mom) and say only, "wow".


I can see straight to, uh, the other side of the playground!







I'm still picking sand out of his hair...

the ever-quotable No*ah

We had a lot of firsts this week - first Sunday School, first Early Childhood class of the season, and first MOPS class ever. It was a lot - the boys did really well, but acted rather stressed at home, and they're recovering from a sinus thing that hasn't helped. I have it too, going on the third week, and I'm rather glad this week is over. It was full of crankiness, poor sleep, and calamity. Today was topped off by Susan, one of our hens, escaping into the neighborhood for the entire day, only to appear outside the coop at dusk. That was preceded by my wedding band slipping off my finger somewhere between the back gate and the tomato bed. I think I'll need to rent a metal detector to find it. Fortunately, the situation doesn't appear to be a metaphor for anything I can think of, and anything we're dealing with falls easily into the category of "this too shall pass".

At our Early Childhood class, someone asked if her son needed to "tinkle". N asked what that meant, and I told him that "tinkle" meant "pee pee". In the car on the way home he was singing, "tinkle, tinkle, little bottom" to the tune of "Twinkle Little Star". Ahem.

Tonight's quote:
"No Mama! I am not being ridiculously contrary!"

Score one for much-needed levity...