Remembering Bunny’s Wedding
I’ve been going through my old journals again, and today I came across this little passage, about my sister Bunny’s wedding back in 2006, when Sophie was five and Jake was two:
Author: Leslie Kimel
Memories of Mintwood
As a child, I was always a fort builder. When I was 12, my sister Kris and I built our most beloved fort, Mintwood Estate, a crooked little house and elaborate garden, under a camphor tree in our backyard. We didn’t know …
The Humble, Helpful Log
Two years ago one of our water oaks died, and two weeks ago it finally fell—deep in the backyard. It is quite enormous, the dead body of the tree. But we didn’t cart it off; we let it lie.
Why? Because logs serve important ecological functions. As they slowly decay, their nutrients and minerals trickle back into the soil, enriching it. Logs store moisture, too, and can serve as nurse logs for new tree seedlings. They offer food for termites, beetles, and other wood-eating insects, and provide homes and hiding places for a wide assortment of animals, including carpenter ants, spiders, centipedes, toads, and salamanders. Woodpeckers and raccoons often hunt on logs.
But these aren’t the only reasons we chose to keep our log in place. We kept it because it’s just plain cool to look at, and comfortable to sit on. It’s a great spot to have some tea and wear a funny hat.
In Praise of the Clothesline
I just wanted to take a moment to advocate for a return to the use of the humble clothesline! Hanging out your laundry saves energy and money—and it makes your clothes smell so fresh. Plus, line drying is much gentler on your clothes than heat …
Cold Weather and Cat Fun
his weekend was another crazy cold weekend–and our heat wasn’t working in the main house, so Rob and the cats and I had to “camp out” in our Little House, the old detached kitchen that we now use as an office. It was kind of cozy hanging out in such a small place with 11 cats.
Tropical Smoothies
That’s golden ragwort in the back, and a coontie in the foreground. What a wonderful spot for a smoothie to hang out.
Today I made these super-easy tropical smoothies. They were quite festive. I just wish I’d had some little paper umbrellas for garnishes.
Tropical Smoothies
Ingredients:
2 cups orange juice
1 can coconut milk
2 bananas
2 cups frozen pineapple chunks
2 Tbsp agave nectar
Directions:
Blend all ingredients in a blender until very smooth. Pour into glasses and serve.
St. Augustine: A Few More Tidbits
I want to tell you just a bit more about our last night in St. Augustine, what a jolly madhouse it was in our little beach house. Bunny and I sat around together trying to remind each other of old Christmas memories, things the other …
Pumpkin Muffins and a Camellia Show
On Saturday I was so happy just because I was free. For one precious day I didn’t have to go to work and I could do whatever I wanted. I added a sweetshrub (Calycanthus floridus) and three Elliott’s blueberries (Vaccinium elliottii) to our big bed around the pond, and Rob limbed up a lot of trees so …
St. Augustine: Day Two
On our second full day in St. Augustine the weather finally started to warm up, and I was so glad. That first night we were there, Sunday night, I had felt so sad when we passed the historic district all lit up with Christmas lights; we couldn’t get out of the car because it was too cold. I’d never seen such a beautiful, tantalizing display, with canopies of twinkle lights hovering over the little streets, and the trees and gazebos in the parks all striped with lights too.
But by Tuesday it was finally warm enough to really enjoy the city. Mom, Bun, Matt, Sophie, and I went on a tour of the Dow Museum of Historic Houses, which features nine historic houses dating from 1790 to 1910.
We purchased our tickets from the very persnickety ticket lady at the front desk. I was paying for Mom and me and Sophie, so I said, “One senior, one adult, and one child, please.”
“Child?” the ticket lady said, peering over her glasses at me. “Do you mean the student?” She motioned to Sophie.
“Yes,” I said. “Her. The child.”
“The student,” the ticket lady said. “One student.” (She was so persnickety.)
Apparently a student ticket was different from a child’s ticket (more expensive), and anyone over the age of three was considered a student.
Anyway, we referred to Sophie as “the student” for the duration of our visit.
“I hope the student is taking notes,” I said. “At the end of our tour, there will be a quiz, which I will be administering.”
Sophie rolled her eyes. She kept sassing us the whole time, saying all she had learned is that “old-fashioned people ate turtle.” She also kept herself busy pointing out hair wreaths . . . and the butt cracks of various cherubs.
At one point we were exploring one of the old houses and we found a very small door, the exact same height as Sophie. “Oh, this must be the student door,” I said, and I encouraged her to open it and enter whatever little secret passageway it guarded.
“Don’t worry,” I said insincerely. “I won’t lock it behind you.”
Later Sophie and I sat on a breezy porch surrounded by rustling cabbage palms. Sophie was grimacing and rubbing her forehead.
“Are you regretting your decision to come with us to the historic house museum?” I asked. (Her parents had taken Jake to the wax museum.)
Sophie cried, “I just have a bug bite—and no, you can’t see it!”
“Well,” I said, “I wasn’t actually going to ask to see it, believe it or not.”
Sophie and I love to play fight.
Mom was being really cute and bossy as we wandered around the gardens. When she discovered a kumquat tree full of bright orange fruit, she started giving me orders: “Now stand up there! Pick one! Try it!”
It was so funny and so typical that I had to write it down. I always bring a little notepad around with me so I can take notes.
The garden walls at the Dow Museum were so neat. Some had stone seats built into them. Others had fan windows.
There were more statues than plants in the little garden rooms.
We had lunch at Athena House. Sophie was so cute. She was so hungry, she actually ate a slice of cucumber. And most of Matt’s pita triangles. I always think it’s cute when Sophie’s hungry because usually she could care less about food. I guess I feel like I can relate to her better when she’s hungry–because I’m always hungry.
After lunch, we went antiquing. Well, most of us did. Phil opted to take Jake to some tourist shops instead.
“I think Phil’s probably still looking for his pirate socks,” Mom smiled.
The tourist shops were just down the road from the antiques shops. It was so funny. At one point I was coming out of a shop and I caught a glimpse of Jake in the distance, in the middle of a leap. He looked so wonderfully nutty and full of life.
“Hey, Kris,” I said, pointing. “I just saw Jake leaping down there.”
“I kind of feel sorry for Phil,” Kris said. “Jake’s terrible in stores.”
We had so much fun in the beach house that night, the last night of our trip. It was a mad house.
At a certain point Sophie was threatening me with produce. “Beets are for beating,” she said, with a devilish little smile.
“Matt,” I called across the house (we were sitting at the dining room table and Matt was sitting in the living room on the couch), “Sophie needs to come hang out with you. There’s wordplay going on over here. Puns and the like.”
“Oh,” Matt said, chuckling in his sheepish way, “any punny ones?”
Bunny groaned and rolled her eyes. “Matt,” she said, “what have I told you about quality versus quantity?”
We sat at the table in the dining room, playing Cheese Touch, Jake’s latest board game. While he was waiting for his turn, he kept smelling his socks. He’d raise his little stripe-y foot happily to his nose.
“Jake,” Bunny said sweetly, “I’ve noticed you keep smelling your socks. Is that because they smell good or bad?”
“Good!” Jake replied.
Kris said, rolling her eyes, “They’re shea infused.”
Jake is such a cheater whenever we play board games. About halfway through our Cheese Touch game he pretended he was quitting just so he could walk past Bunny and see the card she was holding. He walked past her all sad, his head hanging and his bottom lip protruding. But it was a ruse! It was all a ruse! He was cheating (though he would never admit it).
Jake loves to be dramatic. He loves to twist your words and then become very insulted. He loves to storm out of the room in the middle of a game of Cheese Touch. “Yeah, rub it in!” he’ll cry when nobody is rubbing anything in. Then he’ll storm off in hopes that you’ll try to comfort him by letting him have another turn.
Kris is so funny. At one point she sighed and said to me, “I don’t know what I’m going to do about Jake’s personality.”
At about 11:00 (way past my bedtime), Bunny got out her jump rope and she and I started turning it in the crowded, chaotic living room so Sophie could jump. Sophie was so cute, dressed in her little soft brown velvet pants; they’re total high waters and make her look very cute and short and babyish. Sophie always wears soft pants (she’s all about comfort), and she always wants her T-shirts to have jokes on them. When her mother took her shopping the other day, Sophie said, “If a shirt’s hilarious and it has sequins on it, then I definitely want to get it.”
Anyway, Bun and I were turning the rope and whooping, encouraging Sophie. We kept hitting the TV with the rope and getting the rope caught in the ceiling fan. We were laughing really loud and driving Matt and Phil and Mom crazy as they tried in vain to read. (There was much glaring and eye-rolling.) Sophie was jumping and jumping and Bun and I were counting her jumps really loudly and obnoxiously.
Sophie was good at jumping. She even tried her hand at running in, and hopping on one foot. The whole house was shaking. Meanwhile, Jake was sitting around in his Grinch pajamas playing one of his little handheld games and smelling his shea-infused socks, and finally he decided he wanted to jump too. He got up the courage. So gracious little Sophie let him take a turn.
Jake was good at jumping rope, even though it was his first time trying. He was so proud of himself. His cheeks were bright pink, and he had this completely delighted look in his eyes. He jumped 12 times without missing, and then Bun and I got the rope hung up on a cabinet. (We were in some very cramped quarters.)
Jake kept wanting to try jumping over and over again.
“One more time! No, two more times!” he cried. “No, three more times!”
“Mommy . . .” Sophie whined.
“Jake, don’t ruin it,” Kris warned.
“I’m not!” he cried. “I’m just excited! I’m just really proud I can do it! I can jump rope, Mommy!”
Jake kept jumping and jumping, looking so thrilled and so hilarious in his little green flannel pajamas. Finally, his mother told him it was time for bed.
Kris insisted and Jake started crying. “Mommy!” he said, in tears. “I’m seven years old! I’m not a little child anymore!”
I turned my face away so he wouldn’t see me smiling.
After Jake went to bed, Sophie jumped a little more rope, then turned into a ninja. Her transformation was quite sudden and unexpected. She came leaping into the living room, dressed in the following ninja gear: a knit beanie, a scarf (covering her face), and my slipper socks. She was brandishing a pair of Mom’s knitting needles.
“Soph!” Mom cried. “Put those down! You’ll poke your eye out!”
“Yes, Sophie,” Matt said. ”That’s very dangerous.” He confiscated the knitting needles.
But Sophie was so cute as she did her ninja kicks and leaps. She is such a late-night goofball. Apparently becoming a ninja is the type of thing she does every night when she’s supposed to be doing her homework. She’s apparently big into procrastination.
At about midnight, Bunny and Sophie and I started playing another game of Liv dolls, our biggest one yet. But I’ll have to tell you about that tomorrow. I’ll do another post–a little wrap-up of our trip.