Golden boy

A grey tarmac road, a track, a field, a gate. My golden haired boy runs and darts, feet barely touching the ground. He is smiling, all teeth and dimples; backwards and forwards he goes, offering arms to lift and hands to hold then pulling away to freedom and the joy of swift movement. There is a gang of us on this expedition but I cannot keep my eyes or my camera away from this little one with the bright halo of hair.

Both of my boys have mounds of hair upon their heads; it's amazing stuff that just gets bigger and fuller as it grows. Eli's has lost its blonde innocence and I think this winter may take the light from Monty's too. This could be the last time I get to capture the glow of those curls; the light scattered like fairy dust along the threads of his mane. The shimmering, shining wonder of it.

My brother and my dad had the same thick golden hair when they were children, but sadly they both lost a large amount of it when they hit their twenties. I think it came as a shock to my dad at the tender age of twenty-one to suddenly have his crowning glory coming away in drifts. To this day, he blames the standard issue army beret he was obliged to wear during his National Service. I'm more inclined to blame genetics, when I and others appreciate my boys' locks, it is always edged with a slight sadness that this gift may be lost before they are ready to part with it. So for now, we let it grow long and luxurious, a tangle of tresses to trap the light with.

(Can you spot the little sprite in the trees?)

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This is my late post for the Nurture Photography Challenge - there are some stunning pictures that people have contributed on the theme of yellow/light this week. I can recommend having a look.

Popping in...

I've been slightly absent around these parts of late but I'm still around, just busy! We've been having a lot of fun, learning some new things, spending time together and with friends and watching the leaves fall ever more thickly from the trees that are all around us. There have been good amounts of sunshine helping the season along and for that I am grateful.

Catching the worm

I wake early, so early that the soft warm place I occupy like an animal in its den is reluctant to let me go. The weight of the blanket around me pins me to my place and in that second I know I must break free or remain captive to the clinging bed. With an effort of will I step into the new-come chill of unheated autumn house.

I tread with care as I gather my comforts in the dark, slippers and soft jumper, barely breathing lest I should wake an interruption to my daily rituals.

Downstairs, the moon is still awake, casting its blue light over kitchen surfaces, I look for it but cannot find it so content myself with dreaming a moment longer in the glow before turning on a light and bringing the room into reality.

With sleepy hands I rinse out the coffee pot and refill it. I am emerging now from my otherworldly haze and glad of the quiet and solitude, grateful for these moments that are only mine. The smell of brewing coffee fills the house and I am reminded of a man lying upstairs who will catch a waft of reassuring familiarity.

Pulling a blanket over my knees, old woman that I am, I wallow in my little piece of time. Soon there will be steps upon the stairs, little voices declaring their hunger, little bed-warm bodies folding into mine. There will be some tension as we settle into our day roles and jostle for our place in this pack. There will be noise and negotiation, discord and discussion.

But now, right now, there is just me.

Fade from green

Today, in an effort to improve my photography skills I'm joining in with Bumbles and Light who are hosting an Autumn themed photo challenge. Each week there will a prompt to encourage those taking part to get

out there with our cameras and have fun. Although I love taking pictures I'm still a bit of a novice so this seemed an ideal opportunity to pick up some tips whilst enjoying being inspired by the themes of the week. 

This first week's prompt was 'Green/Journey' so living in possibly the greenest part of the entire planet I thought I could probably manage this one. Everything in this bit of the soggy pennines seems to be covered in moss, if the people stood still long enough I'm fairly sure we too would be covered in green hairy coats. It's incredible stuff, bright and springy close up but looking like ancient velvet upholstery covering tree trunks and branches. These pictures were taken at Hardcastle Crags, which feels like the epicentre of this wet and sodden land. It is so beautiful though, with a rushing river complete with stepping stones and acres and acres of woodland.

The trees are still clinging to their foliage and except for one or two trees brightly blazing yellow, leaves were mostly still green. We all love it here so much, if we came every day there would be new things to discover and enjoy.

I'm not sure my photography really captured the day - I really wanted to try and get some mossy loveliness but the day was grey and the light flat...challenging conditions for my untutored eye. I enjoyed the challenge though and am looking forward to taking part again next week.

Education otherwise...

I've been asked on a few occasions about how we're all doing with our adventures in home education, so a few weeks into Eli's full-time 'unschooling', I thought I'd offer a report of how we're getting on. 

On the whole it has been great, spending time with Eli on his own has been a real gift. In our first week there was a real skip in his step and we enjoyed some perfect golden moments when everything felt just right.

Since that first week challenges have crept in, as they will, but nothing that some thought and good management couldn't put right. It's sometimes hard to get the balance right between social engagements and quiet time at home, and of course, having Eli with me all the time means there isn't much chance for me to switch off.

There's plenty to feel good about however; Eli has started reading which is a great relief for me. I've been trying to hold onto the wisdom that all children surrounded by books will learn to read in their own time, but I knew I'd be nervous until he actually started being able to put letters together. I was never totally relaxed about just leaving him to it, so I've put various things in his path like a Letterland book and a Montessori moveable alphabet, but mostly it's been his own motivation and enquiry that has lead us to this point. He's been enjoying writing for a while, asking us how to spell out various words and I think again the Letterland book really helped us with that - if he didn't know what a letter was we could refer to the corresponding character and this prompted his memory. 

I have no idea how they teach reading in schools so my approach has been mostly based on instinct and knowing Eli's moods and preferences. The real breakthrough only happened because he decided, very definitely, that he wanted to read. I've been enjoying his triumphant exclamations when he manages to read a word totally without help, it's an amazing thing to witness. 

Other than reading, we've been drawing, cycling, shopping, talking, climbing, swimming, cooking, having fun in the woods, meeting up with friends, and all the bits in between. I think I'm learning to relax a little and trust in his own innate ability to learn. I know there will be tough times, when I worry about how differently we're doing things, when I feel weary and low on resources; but I can't help feeling that for as long as it lasts, this is a special way to live.

Recently, on a bike ride, as we were zooming down a hill beside a river, Eli shouted at the top of his lungs 'I'm free!'. How wonderful it was to hear it.

Dark and sweet

In those times of tension brought on by the strains of family life, I often forget what is available to me outside my door. When Rob is around and I know I need to quickly grab some time and space for myself I panic a bit. What to do? A run, a bike ride, some projects that have been waiting to be completed for a long time? I had such a moment on Saturday. I was looking outside at the bright equinox day, unsure about how to best use my time when I heard the woods calling me.

The woods run right up to the back of our house and as soon as I remembered them I knew this was what I  needed. I was quickly out of doors with camera in hand and crossed the yard. Slipping into that dark familiar embrace brought deep and immediate relief. The air smelled sweet and damp, the soft mud of a million fallen leaves squelched deliciously as I walked gratefully up the path. Illuminated leaves shone against the dark, and I was rapt.

There is so much relief and refuge to be found beneath a leafy canopy; these woods are mostly birch, airy and full of life. Ferns and grasses cover the floor, cobwebs stretch across pathways with their spiders dangling from threads, performing aerial tricks and small furry creatures scurry towards hidden dens.

Underneath these kindly boughs seemed to be the perfect place to contemplate the closing of the summer. Where light and dark produce such perfectly balanced beauty, where sharp air fills the lungs and clears the head. It's a good time to take stock of the harvest, both personal and edible, to look at the seeds that were sown last Autumn, see what has come to fruition in our lives and be thankful for our gifts. Here, with the sun playing amongst the translucent forms of the wood, I am thankful for the rest and regeneration that is constantly open to me through connection with the land.

The pagan year is drawing to a close. In a few weeks Samhain will celebrate the new year and welcome in the dark, cold, wet and barren months. No doubt there will be challenging days ahead and I am hoping that, if I can ready myself, perhaps I can weather the winter with a little more grace and patience than usual. Walk, when I can, with the falling leaves and the keen wind, say soft goodbyes to the fading green, remembering that it will return.

Soon, the trees will be stripped to their bare bones and will stand like ranks of skeletons across these hills. But they, like us, will only be resting; putting their energy into their roots, reaching down into the earth for strength and sustenance; ready to emerge next year, into the light once more.

A forager's tonic

Having had a poor year trying to grow my own vegetables (oh wetness, oh slugs!) I was getting a mite obsessive about putting by some sort of harvest for the cold months ahead. Having stumbled across a fine recipe for elderberry syrup in my Earth Pathways diary, I was determined that I would have at least one store cupboard triumph this year.

I've had a hard time finding elderberries in my immediate area but managed a good haul from alongside the canal near Bingley when visiting friends. It was a drizzly day and little legs were weary but still the children immersed themselves in the work of gathering, running about excitedly shouting over each fruit-laden bush they discovered. There is satisfaction in both discovering shiny wild treasure and in the anticipation of brewing and bottling something of the season.

So, without further ado - here is Glennie Kindred's recipe for elderberry syrup...

• Strip the berries from the stalks into a good sized pan - a fork made this less of a chore
• Add cinnamon sticks, chopped lemons, a couple of star anise, slices of ginger and some allspice
• Glennie advises being intuitive with amounts...I used about 1 and a half lemons and about an inch and a half of ginger
• Stir it all up and leave overnight.
• The next day heat it up until it gets juicy - I possibly left mine a little too long and I think it just started to reduce

• Strain it all through some fabric - I used a bit of muslin in a sieve but I think almost anything clean would do. This bit looks messy because it is.
• Measure the liquid and return to the pan to heat again gently
• Add the same amount of honey to liquid - I used a fifty percent manuka blend  
• Store in bottles or jars - I asked a herbalist friend about storage times and she suggested that keeping them in the fridge would help preserve the syrup a little longer

The resulting syrup is deep, dark and delicious. As it was so loved by the boys I checked on its toxicity with my friend who said that it was probably advisable to stay within two dessert spoonsful a day. Raw elderberries can be none too good if you eat more than a few so I was glad to be reassured that once cooked they are fine to consume in moderation.

I have been enjoying using the concentrated mixture as warm drink diluted with water. I think it would be good with yoghurt or ice cream and I'm looking forward to trying a splash in something bubbly like cava or prosecco. It's also good slurped straight from the spoon.

I'm told by those that know that elderberry can ease congestion of the body, heart and mind. It's a sultry brew to be sure and I'm trusting in a little hedgerow magic to keep those autumn coughs and sniffles at bay.