[Hunt for a Red October] There is this one tree

Just out my kitchen window, through the metal bars of the gate that divides us from another complex, and past a few artistically placed fir trees, stands this one tree. It's the only tree in the whole city that I've seen thus far that has any color. And it shines. 

It sits there, small and lonesome, surrounded by ten huge towers of concrete and glass, and sings its autumn song every morning as the light hits from the east. I gaze at it while washing dishes, or scrubbing potatoes, or as I turn from the stove and catch it again out of the side of my eye. 

I like this tree, how it speaks to me. How there is always grace, there is always His kindness, growing and shining, however small or alone or surrounded by bleakness. It's right there, and I can see it when I look up.

[Hunt for a Red October] Up on the Farm

Every week, a man drives into the city from a small farm out in the mountains to deliver boxes of free-range eggs. Every week, we take our little cardboard boxes and gratefully unload the variety of speckled brown or white, faintest watery blue, or cream colored eggs, and feast on their freshness. Today we were able to take a trip out to this mountain farm to get a glimpse of how these lovely chickens live and where our eggs are coming from. 

First, a hike up steep trails and a footbridge wet with the morning rain, to the small brick homes that house the hens.

They literally are free to roam on the mountainside, with little huts scattered here and there where they go to lay their bounty.

And then, the hunt for eggs.

Then we came back to the house of the couple who runs the farm, where they graciously made us tea, let our children run all over their small home, and prepared a charcoal grill for us to cook our lunch.

The leftover casings of chestnuts... 

A little dancing ensued...

And then back home again.

It was a perfect way to spend a fall morning, after a night of heavy thunder and rains. 

The air was fresh and cool and the mountain crags and valleys were like a drink of water to these city soaked eyes. 

You can view the entire set of photos over on flickr, though I know I nearly posted them all here:)

And it almost seemed ridiculous that the theme for this weeks' The View From Here is {nesting}. So I can't help but interpret that in a chicken coop sort of way... 

If you want to share photos of how you are nesting this fall, or just view some creative ideas from others, visit and/or share over at The View From Here.

[Hunt for a Red October] The Circus McGurkus

“In all the whole town, the most wonderful spot is behind Sneelock’s Store in the big vacant lot. It’s just the right spot for my wonderful plans,” Said young Morris McGurk, “…if I clean up the cans.”

“Now a fellow like me,” said young Morris McGurk,”Could get rid of this junk with a half hour’s work. I could yank up those weeds. And Chop down the dead tree.  And haul off those old cars.  There are just two or three.  And then the whole place would be ready, you see…”

“All ready to put up the tents for my circus.  I think I will call it the Circus McGurkus.”

The Circus McGurkus! The cream of the cream!

The Circus McGurkus! The Circus Supreme!

The Circus McGurkus! Colossal! Stupendous!

Astounding! Fantastic! Terrific! Tremendous!

-Dr. Suess (If I ran the Circus)

[Hunt for a Red October]

[roadside gems]

Remember that movie, the one with Sean Connery? That is not what this is about. 

Autumn has always been my favorite time of year. It is so many things that I love: crisp air, the smell of wood smoke, brilliant colors, textures of wool and flannel and tweed. It makes me nostalgic and sometimes sad, but peaceful and alive and thankful too. I love the food, the smells, the coziness. If I had a nickname, it should probably be cozy. I am addicted to cozy.

Where I grew up, in Northern Indiana back in the USA, autumn was beautiful, but not brilliant. The colors there are present, but not breathtaking. When I lived in the West, at the base of the Teton Mountains, fall came early and the golden aspens shimmered like drops of sunlight, painting the valleys and foothills with their honey colored splendor. When I moved to the outskirts of Philadelphia to attend college, and later stayed as a newly married couple, I knew that the autumns of the East were unrivaled anywhere else. 

Then I moved to China, to a city that is nearly the same latitude as Philadelphia, but where the fall season falls far short. Leaves here don't change colors; they simply turn brown, shrivel, and fall off. There is an abundance of apples, but no nearby orchards to go picking in, and no farms with hay bales or pumpkin patches or shelves lined with fresh cider. There is no Yankee Candle store with the Spiced Pumpkin calling my name. 

It is however the most beautiful time of year in this city by the sea. The air finally cools down from the long, heavy humidity of summer, the sky clears a bit from the fog and smog and strikes a brilliant blue pose, sometimes for weeks at a time. Autumn in China has its particular charms, which I sometimes notice when I take the time to look for them.

As a foreigner here, I am longing for the comforts of my own autumnal history, but am wanting to enjoy and even accept the presence of autumn in this place. For this country, red is a color that represents so much and is so vital both aesthetically and philosophically. So for this next month, I will [Hunt for a Red October], the beauty of the autumn that I love, here in this city in China. 

The format will be similar to [month of mornings] in that it will be through just pictures, or words, or both, and  hopefully every day, as inspiration allows!

This is not an organized effort, but if you feel inspired or have a desire to share words or pictures of your own, please feel welcome to share a link in the comments below.

The Twelve Project :: September

This family photo once a month thing is a great idea... but my lack of creativity is starting to show when it comes to family group shots. I need a remote for my camera so I can go somewhere fun and get something a little more interesting. This let's-all-line-up-on-the-couch thing is getting old. It's not my camera's fault or it's lack of a remote, really (you already knew that), I need to get myself a little more organized and motivated I think.

But anyway, here is September's lovely photograph, and a bit of the beforehand while I was trying to set up. Too bad I had to join them... they were having so much fun picking lint out of each other's hair and playing peek-a-boo and air guitars.

{Close to Home} Escape

As you leave the front door to our building, you run smack dab into a parking lot road, backed by a trash dump. The road is lined by a fence, on the other side of which is an abused tennis court that now passes for a neighborhood soccer field. I often wish I had fields of wheat or forest or mountain meadows in that place, somewhere my kids could run and play in the sunshine and dirt all hours of the day. But when I look at what we do have, even with the limitations apartment life brings, I am so thankful.

There are places here and there, around corners of buildings and up against dividing fences, where a small grove of trees is allowed to grow. And this, accompanied by bits and pieces of abandoned furniture from the trash heap, or broken lamps and piles of pine needles, is the making of hours of afternoon fun. 

Because what we are not lacking here, whatever landscape is absent, is the company of good friends. I could go on and on about these little people, this small band of nationalities and backgrounds that has gathered here for who knows how long, because they are an astounding bunch of kids. Not without their issues and problems mind you, but they are a blessing in this place that is barren of so much.

They are kids. So they tease and say unkind things sometimes. They are impatient and impetuous. They rule each other and sometimes a bit ruthlessly. But they are also considerate, and inclusive, they are smart and creative, they love the sunshine and fresh air and seem not to tire of the same company day after day. They are a range of ages and it's so sweet to watch the older ones innocently playing along with the group, almost unaware that they could sequester themselves off into an age bracket all their own. 

It's no wonder that when the weather permits, and often even when it doesn't, my kids are begging to go outside, to run up and ring the neighbor's doorbell, to hunt down whoever is willing and able to come out to play.

And happily, there is rarely a day when no one can be found.

For other photos on this week's theme of how you (or your children) "escape", click on over to The View From Here Photo Challenge, and feel free to join in and share a photo as well!

One For the Girls

I think I may have birthed a future Grand Theft Auto felon, or maybe just a Pyromaniac with a tendency towards Arson. In recent weeks, every time I turn around this little girl of mine is grabbing strollers and dolls straight out of other children's hands (oh, and oranges, and juice boxes, and balloons). If it's not Stroller Stealing, it's Stroller Kidnapping where she grabs the wheel and drives away with an anxious child trying to get a good look at whoever is taking them on this Joyride. Then there's been the candle blowing obsession and one semi-dangerous situation where all I saw was a flaming napkin flying through the air and a quick-as-lighting-husband running into the bathroom.

So, for weeks, yes maybe even months now I've been saying I need to get this girl some estrogen appeasing toys. She has made do for long enough with Lincoln Logs and Matchbox cars, deflated soccer balls and a marker-tattooed Woody. She clearly is craving something to mother.

So I finally hauled myself into a taxi and out to the overwhelming, jam packed market where such things can be purchased and got my girl her first doll accessory, a stroller. Then we went crazy wild and even got a new pair of shoes and had lunch out together to boot.

And in keeping with this theme of finally getting something for the Girl, I finally finished my first ever adult sized project-- a sweater for myself. 

My notes and complete thoughts on this project are over on Ravelry (if you're dying to know that stuff). In the end I was elated that it fit, since I had to play with the math a bit to make my yarn and needle size work. 

It's full of little mistakes and blunders, signs of the fact that I am still learning so much in the way of knitting and yet such an encouragement that you can still do something like make a sweater even when you're experience is lacking.

Thanks to my guest photographer, aka Husband, for taking these I'm-Dreaming-of-Becoming-an-Eddie- Bauer-Model-Shots for me. It's embarrassing, but I poured over their magazines as a dorky twelve year old when most pre-teens were shopping at the Gap. 

I'm so thankful I get to have Girl Days... but it's time to tackle some projects for the Boys now.