Niagara Falls

Since January, I had cherished hopes of making it to Argyle in order to catch our nieces and nephews in their epic dance recital. And when one is heading upstate, why not throw in a trip to Niagara Falls? IT'S PRACTICALLY ON THE WAY.

Left arrow: Niagara Falls. Right arrow: Dance recital. 

Upstate is upstate, right? What's an extra 500 miles between friends? Throw in the fact that J had a conference for work the same weekend back in Princeton, and it all made sense in a special kind of way!

Everyone stop and take a deep breath and think about what it must be like to live with me. Say a prayer for J while you're at it.

The plans came together and we set off for Niagara Falls in the wee morning hours of a Thursday. We stopped for lunch of some amazing (seriously) meatloaf in the grocery-store deli of a tiny town that was nearly-there. Such are the random serendipitous moments of these drives.

The closer we got, the more excited I was. I mean, I was really looking forward to this. I was convinced that Niagara Falls was something that would not disappoint, although I didn't have much evidence to go on. I was deeply hopeful that it would be like the Grand Canyon in that it would be even grander than what could be pictured or imagined: that it would demand to be experienced.

Horseshoe Falls

And, wow.

Nutmeg was afraid at first. The noise of mighty rushing waters is not to be trifled with.

foreground: American Falls

Rainbow!

The mist from Horseshoe Falls. We could see this from miles away as we drove in, like smoke from a wildfire.

We spent almost 24 hours at Niagara Falls, and that was about right. I booked us a hotel on the Canadian side with views of the falls. We could hear the roar of the water while in our room.

Breakfast in the hotel

The timing was perfect; in mid-May, things had just reopened after the winter (!) so we weren't in full tourism season yet. There were no crowds, and hotels and such were less expensive.
We hit an uncommonly warm day, though, which meant the Maid of the Mist was a delight.

The Maid is a boat that goes up-close-and-personal to the bottom of the falls. In misty Horseshoe Falls, we got soaked. 

I maybe thought about the wedding in The Office.

We hiked around to the different islands and got up-close looks. Nutmeg picked me about a zillion dandelions. 

It was fun to get to use our passports and overnight in Canada. As Nutmeg commented re: border control, "That girl was NICE to me!"

Bud's "You think?!?" to the "Climbing is Dangerous" sign above the falls

Kid photographer! OK, it was  a little romantic.

Niagara Falls did not disappoint. It was a whirlwind-yet-restorative family vacation, and I am deeply grateful to have been able to go. And truly thankful and amazed that it exceeded my expectations (unlike our trip to the Grand Canyon) and was in no way disappointing. There is something exhilarating in in hoping big and then seeing it come to pass. I am so so grateful!

Our crew of Road Ninjas at the Falls

Mail Call

I explain the duct tape later

I can't believe two weeks have gone by so quickly! They have been filled with joy. And filled. I hope to get to them soon.

But for now, in this little window I have before supper, I just wanted to note how wonderful it has been to get mail from many of y'all.

Real, hold-in-your hands mail. Snail Mail. Thrill.

So true.

Showing up like a surprise gift in our mailbox. And sometimes, actual surprise gifts. 

For one thing, we get mail a little more often than we do at home (because we are away from all those people we see in person). And given that there are six of us and my kids do some writing, there is always cause for hope that there may be mail. Which means the checking of the mailbox is a daily Event. One of our family liturgies of this year.

For another thing, we have our own individual mailbox across the country highway from our house, instead of the block of neighborhood mailboxes we have at home. This means that if we have mail going out, I get to put up a little red flag like I did growing up. And I then know when the mail has come because the little red flag is down. There is one location inside our house where I can check this status without going outside.

From our bedroom window

Which is important, because when it is seven degrees outside one doesn't want to get all booted up and find the outgoing Netflix DVD still waiting to be picked up.

The mailbox has served us well, although it took some hits for the team this winter. Twice it suffered dislocation by the force of heavy snow being thrown up by the plow.

Another time it landed about eight feet away from the post. 

Finally, J stopped repairing it and just duct-taped it onto the post for the rest of the season, which included incidents like this:

That snow is frozen solid, folks.

And now, Nutmeg has found herself a faithful penpal in a cousin down in Marietta. Neither of them can quite read yet, but they both can make letters and/or draw pictures. And so the correspondence has been flying back and forth. SO MUCH FUN.

She started out copying letters; she now often asks me to "tell me them out loud."

Anyway, as I contemplate going home and losing this: my little red flag and peeping out my bedroom window and waiting until slow-traffic times to cross our highway-- I am immensely grateful for those of you who have put a stamp or seven onto something and sent it our way. Please know that along with your post, several grins and some dancing were delivered. Thank you.



**UPDATE-- As of Saturday 5.23, there is no longer duct tape on our mailbox. 

Eight More Weeks--

Tuesday marked eight weeks from the day we plan to wrap up our time in New Jersey. For some reason, with the arrival of May came not only "May flowers," but a sense of "it's almost time to go." I wonder whether the Canadian Geese whose migration we witness experience the same sort of sensation.

Driving

If things go according to our current plan, this time eight weeks from now we will be on the road again. It is difficult to describe the complexity of emotions I experience as I ponder this. This week, I have been revisiting a song that has cycled in and out of my regular playlist over the past couple of years: "The Littlest Birds" by the Be Good Tanyas.

Well, I feel like an old hobo
I'm sad lonesome and blue
I was fair as a summer day
Now the summer days are through

You pass through places
And places pass through you
But you carry 'em with you
On the soles of your travellin' shoes

The contrast between the cheerful music and sad words reflects something of how I feel now that May has arrived. The music always makes me want to dance. 

And summer days are not through! They are marching closer every day. Nearly every day we have some new delight pop up. Because we have never been here in spring, I had no idea what hidden gems were waiting in the yard for us. Now, the kids can recite flowers in order of appearance, one wave coming after another:

snowdrops
daffodils
hyacinth
forsythia
tulips

And then, when I thought we were wrapping up, a dogwood exploded in bloom.



A few days later we found a blooming lilac bush back by the sledding hill.

lilacs on Sunday, our first summery day

This morning, without warning, both fuchsia and white azaleas! WHO KNOWS WHAT DELIGHTS ARE COMING is kind of the mentality of right now around here. Sooner or later, I know, things will settle into nice steady summer.

And then we will pull up stakes and head back to the land where summer is pretty perennial. It seems a little bit like the final curtain is about to drop on a fierce dramatic performance; and we're shifting in our chairs, getting ready to go back blinking into everyday life.

Pixie's first time driving the riding mower

Bud

I have started thinking about our return route home. The northern route? The southern? Checking locations for our favorite hotels, and seeing which little trips and sightseeing we can squeeze in along the way.

However, even as we start to plan the return and my mind fills up with images of Louisiana (or wherever), we are still very much here. Our kids met some kids at a park last week and then their whole family turned up at our church's family fun day on Saturday. Yesterday they all came over for a playdate. New friends, with eight weeks to go. Because we are not done here yet.

Family Fun Day at BRC Highlights

In the months leading up to our move out here, I started a google doc with a list of good things to anticipate here; it helped me look for the possibility of good in Princeton. Some of the things on the list were lightning bugs and thunder.

Looking back at it now, that list is pretty sparse; from my present vantage point, I am astonished by all of the things I had to look forward to that I didn't know about yet.

It's a little bit like our yard this spring, and all of the marvelous beauty that I didn't know was waiting. God has been very tender with me this year. There has been so much I didn't know was in store. I hope I have a chance to share more about it.

Our year has passed through us even as we have passed through it, and we've all grown (especially the children!). We will carry it with us on the soles of our travellin' shoes, yes, but in other ways and places, as well.

The song continues in this way, which is a fitting end to what I have to say for tonight:

Well, I love you so dearly, I love you so clearly
I wake you up in the mornin' so early
Just to tell you I got the wanderin' blues
I got the wanderin' blues

And I'm gonna quit these ramblin' ways
One of these days
Soon

Spring Just Keeps Coming! Our weekend.

Growing up in Georgia (especially those few years in SOWEGA), we had four seasons: Summer. Football. Winter (albeit a mild one).  And one glorious week of Spring, when all of the flowers and trees and bushes exploded with color and then we all got past it and moved into summer, which is where I remember us living for about six months of the year.

Not so here. In New Jersey we have four full-length seasons. Spring has been unfolding gently, with each day different--but in a subtle way (except for one of our trees. Yesterday morning I was pointing out a tree with baby leaves to the kids, and thought there might be white blossoms coming on it. By late afternoon it was all white lacy frothiness.)

This weekend, J was out of town. Earlier this week I asked a friend to pray for us about it; specifically I wanted to be a blessing to our kids.  She prayed for specific things like that I would be able to do fun things with them. Which was great. And, in my mind, a little above-and-beyond. Because when I said I'd like to bless my kids, what I meant was that I'd like to keep my temper and not be a control freak.

But whatever. Pray away. Fun times are a bonus.

We have had a splendid weekend.

On Friday, we finished up school and then one ninja suggested that we have an "art competition." They asked me for a theme ("April Showers Bring May Flowers,") and we were off. Mixed media. Sketching. Painting. Listening to Vivaldi's The Four Seasons. 

It was one of those idyllic homeschooling times that comes along just often enough to give you hope that they may show up again. Ebenezers of a sort. And so you keep at it.

Saturday morning [after cartoons] we headed out to find a park I had heard recommended. On the way there I pointed out a blooming tree. "Pink Tree!" I called.

The kids started CHEERING AND CLAPPING.

And so it went for the rest of the drive: looking for signs of new life, expecting to find it, and rejoicing together when we did. ("Yellow tree!") I hd the sense that we have all been waiting for this and yet have been completely powerless to bring it to be.

It is still Eastertide! So many miracles.

We found an awesome playground at the new park, and I wish I could adequately communicate what it felt like to sit in the sun and warmth when we have had so little of either for so long. It was eighty degrees, which we haven't seen in at least six months. It was blissful and bright.

After home and lunch, we dropped Pixie off at the church so she could rehearse for her upcoming solo/have a voice lesson. On our short drive home the rest of us passed the high school. There was a banner announcing a lacrosse match, so we stopped and watched because East Coast and we can. Honestly, the whole weekend seemed like a string of golden opportunities strewn before us (and mixed in with all of the messes and quarrels you might expect. But that's part of the point--those parts were expected; but so much more goodness came.)

Into the evening, we played outside in the idyllic warmth. The only thing missing was the fireflies.

But those are coming, oh yes. They will come. And we will watch and wait. For them, and for so much more.

Gettysburg

Last weekend, we went to Gettysburg.

There were many places I have wanted to play tourist and "take advantage of the proximity to" and suchlike while we are on the East Coast. Gettysburg has been in the top three. (I'll let Washington DC, Boston, and NYC battle it out for the other top two spots).  Getting to go was definitely a longing fulfilled.

J tracked down a highly-recommended audio tour (on CDs) that you play in your car; you listen as you drive and visit the various sites, and you can stop and get out whenever you like. It was AMAZING.

The kids were less enthused at the prospect, but we prepared with some really good snacks and there was peace and love (mostly). By the end they were saying things like, "That was INCREDIBLE!" and "Best day EVER!"

We decided to do Gettysburg as a day trip instead of an overnight: a long day, but possible. "Long Days" of travel involve J and I packing the van the night before, down to the breakfast doughnuts and DVDs for "Saturday morning cartoons." We rolled out early and hit the ground running in Gettyburg around 10:00.

We watched the movie of the battle they have in their theater. We all enjoyed the presentation of the cyclorama of the battle (I hadn't been to one of those since fourth grade.) The different parts of the battle were illuminated as the story was told.  The foreground was set so that real props exactly matched up with where the painting picked up, fence posts and all. Really Exciting.

There was also a museum--we spent a couple of hours there. There was so much to read about, so many fascinating artifacts, so many individual stories woven into this seemingly inevitable tragedy.

Still, the highlight for us was certainly the battlefield tour. We meant to do the "quick" version, but in the end we just couldn't cut any of the sites or stories. We spent about four or five hours, including our clambering and reading.

From the Confederate Line

North Carolina Monument: From this spot, Pickett's Charge

detail

It turns out that you are not permitted to climb on the cannons.

Monuments to people, regiments, and states lined the roads. Some marked specific locations of regiments during the battle.

This monument had a dog on the back; the ninjas had just heard about "Sallie," who traveled with a regiment of Federal troops and was lost during the battle. Three days later she was found guarding the bodies of the fallen from her regiment.

We were in Gettysburg on the weekend that fell between the 150th anniversary of the end of the Civil War and the 150th anniversary of Lincoln's assassination. Everything seemed so maintained and close that it was hard to believe so much time has passed.

Above: Robert E. Lee and Traveller atop the Virginia Monument. Since returning from Gettysburg, Pixie and Bud have had several conversations on the merits of Robert E. Lee. They (and we all) have had good talks about gifts, loyalty, context, training and resources. They see him as a hero, and I think that's about right.

One thing that I was curious to see before coming was how the South would be treated. The story of the Civil War is a complicated one that begs for simplification in its presentation; that simplification happens differently in different contexts. On the whole, I was broadly happy with the balance in the representation; if the Union soldiers were the heroes, the Confederates were tragic heroes. We are all Americans now. I am glad that the kids were able to parse out nuance and appreciate the Good where it could be found, on either side; and to begin to appreciate the pain and suffering that may accompany leadership.

We were able to climb a couple of high observation towers to get the lay of the land. It was windy!

We made our way around the battlefield to the Federal side, wending our way up to Little Round Top. It may have been too long since I had read The Killer Angels, but I remembered enough.

I tried to imagine being a Confederate soldier rushing up this hill; or an outnumbered Federal one trying to defend it. Terrible. But beautiful last Saturday.

As we headed back down from Little Round Top, more memorials. More stories. It would have been nice to hit Big Round Top; but that was accessible by trail only. There is lots of hiking that we didn't get to do, so if we ever return (and without a large contingent of Under-10s) we may do some more of that. But for where we are now, what we were able to do was perfect.

We ended our tour at the High-Water Mark of the Confederacy; we listened to a detailed description of events while sitting at the spot where they happened. The battle cries and cannon were all on our speakers; the actual location was quiet and windy. I just wept.

After that, there was only the cemetery to see.

I find that I am feeling sad and weighted just writing about the trip, as if by proximity. The terrible story combined with the peaceful beauty of the battlefield can be a wearing paradox. It reminded us all of the Normandy beaches. But it was great trip, and I am grateful.

PostScript: When J and I were dating, I remember driving north from Georgia to Philadelphia and we stopped to read some historical marker on the side of the road (I am always wanting to read those historical markers, and he knows, and is often stopping). Whatever the sign was about I don't remember. I only remember that it referred to "the Glorious Victory at Gettysburg." Are you kidding me? I was appalled. (We were obviously already north of the Mason-Dixon line at the time). Almost as many soldiers were killed, wounded or declared missing from the Battle of Gettysburg alone than during the entire Vietnam Conflict. Glorious? Sure, be glad you won--but glorious? No. 

Having visited the battlefield, though, I think I can accept the term if we throw out one of the American meanings of the word ("having striking beauty or splendor") in exchange for a Hebrew one for glory, כָּבַד, which can carry a sense of weightiness or heaviness. If that is the case, then I came away with the sense the the Battle of Gettysburg was glorious, indeed.