the blizzard that wasn't

Our area spent the weekend getting worked up about a potentially epic and absolutely crippling blizzard that was heading our way. On Monday afternoon it was announced that the NYC public schools would be closed on Tuesday -- a move with unprecedented advanced notice (we are usually informed of school closings the morning of) which led one to believe that we really were in for a doozy. All public transportation shut down, and the roads were kept open only to emergency vehicles. The city went to bed on Monday night prepared to wake up to upwards of three feet of snow.

But during the night the storm shifted a mere 50 miles to the east, sparing the city from all but about 6 inches of accumulation. The blizzard warning was lifted 18 hours ahead of schedule. We were in the clear. (Our neighbors on Long Island to the east and Connecticut to the north, however, were not so lucky and received the predicted 24+ inches of deep and drifted snow.)

The boys still had the snow day, and Blake's office was still closed for the weather, and since the subway was only slowly restarting again, he wouldn't have been able to get into Manhattan anyway, so we hunkered down for a pleasant play-in-the-snow-and-bake-cookies kind of day.

We started the day exactly as we should have: by not getting up early and making pumpkin muffins for breakfast while the snow continued to swirl around outside.

Just because the blizzard was not nearly as severe as expected didn't mean we came away with nothing. I took the boys outside and they enjoyed romping around in it until they got too cold to cope.

 Daniel "the slug" loved being pulled around on the sled.

He didn't even mind sharing the space with Matthew.

Sleigh ride!

Garrett wanted to "sled like a penguin." He was unsuccessful...probably because he's not a penguin.

Matthew was the first to protest against the cold. Soon after this I took him back inside as he wailed hysterically.

Caleb, the king of the snowplowed mountain.

Garrett attempting to oust him.

 Mini sled hill.

Blake took a quick break from work to walk the two bigger boys down to the playground where they found a small sledding hill. They didn't last long, though, as soon Caleb was in tears because he was too cold. And you would be, too, if there was as much snow in your boots as we found in his once he came inside. He and Garrett decided to warm up under as many blankets as they could gather.

Meanwhile, the little boys "played nicely" together with blocks in the living room:

The infant human eyes its prey, then moves in for the kill. His older brother's block building doesn't stand a chance against the cheetah-like instincts of the motivated crawler.

While Matthew and Daniel napped in the afternoon, I did a little snow science with a very eager Garrett and Caleb. Garrett went out to collect the cleanest snow he could find, and then we observed it using each of our five senses. We also performed a few experiments -- tested to see what would happen to a cup of snow kept in the freezer, the fridge, and on the counter, as well as what happened when we poured both cold and boiling water over the snow.

By the end of the day, I was kaput. (Days with everyone at home have a tendency to do that to me.) I needed a little space and quiet, so I sent the boys to play in their room and, after I straightened up the living room to create at least a semblance of order, I arranged blocks for another quilt I've been working on.

I've never done pinwheels before, but I think I'm a fan. I especially like that this pattern, which only called for a "layer cake" of pre-cut fabric, does not require too much thought.

Everyone is back to school and work today, which, as nice as the free day off was, is a relief. Maybe now I can actually get that quilt top sewn together or finish reading the latest Flavia de Luce novel. At least, that is, for the next hour until it's time to wake up the sleeping babies and shove the stroller through the snow and slush to after school pick up. It's the life, I tell you.

we went apple picking

After weeks of listening to Caleb wonder aloud when we were ever going to go apple picking, we (finally) named Saturday as the day, put it in ink on our calendars, and made it happen. We drove out to Ochs Orchard, our favorite apple picking spot in Warwick, NY, and the pickin's did not disappoint. We filled our bag full of tart and juicy Mcintoshes and Empires and, even though it felt more like summer than fall, we had a lot of fun doing so.

We rounded out the excursion with apple cider and cider donuts, which were delicious. Unfortunately, things went a little sour after that. Everyone was tired and, thanks to some back-to-school sniffles, also kind of whiny and cranky. Daniel was his usual inconsolable car seated self, and Matthew screamed for reasons I'm still unsure of until he finally threw up. So the drive home was really fun.

Back at home we bathed the boys (and hosed down Matthew's car seat), and that seemed to restore everyone's spirits. Daniel was especially dapper in his appliqued tie onesie, and since he slept through the apple orchard and was consequently not photographed there, he more than deserved a snapshot.

Freshly bathed and ready for a classy evening in. 

"Pardon me while adorably adjust my 'tie.'"

And now it's time to start cooking/baking/eating. Even after giving some to our friends who weren't able to join us, we're still up to our eyeballs in apples. I'm thinking this year I'll make applesauce, apple crisp, and these adorable miniature caramel apples. If you have any other suggestions or recipes, I am all ears.

winter in bklyn

On December 21st, the first official day of winter, we were at the playground enjoying 70 degree weather. It was awesome.

But we rang in the new year with the aptly(?) named winter storm Hercules. (Why again are we naming winter storms now? Am I the only one who thinks this is weird?) The boys went back to school on January 2nd, but by the early hours of January 3rd, the announcement was made that, in light of the 6-10 inches of snow received during the night, New York City public schools were cancelled.

Garrett and Caleb, of course, wanted to go out and play in our new white wonderland.

Matthew, like his mother, was not especially keen on the idea.

But because the bigger boys begged and begged, we gave in, bundled up, and headed out doors. They lasted precisely 4 minutes before 2/3 of them begged and begged to go back in. So that little outing was "fun."

Back inside (after a climb up the stairs that included hysterical crying/screaming from an apparently VERY cold Caleb), I put them all in a warm bath to thaw out. They entertained themselves with bubble swords received the night before at a ninja-themed birthday party.

After the water turned cold and their bodies turned into skinny, white raisins, they worked on a giant coloring page.

And then it was about 10:30 and panic struck as I realized they'd already blown through my snow day arsenal. The rest of the day was spent watching movies, littering the floor with every single toy we own, and attempting to soothe cabin fever-induced headaches.

It was a long day.

And while it's over (thank goodness), the rest of the winter unfortunately is not. The realities of this time of year can be a challenge anywhere, but in Brooklyn -- at least for me -- they are overwhelming and truly miserable.

Case in point: The rest of the weekend.

During the night after our snow day, our street-parked car was hit. By a snowplow or just another car trying to maneuver the icy roads, we don't know. But now the driver's side door won't open all the way, and while the issue is mostly a cosmetic one, it needs to be resolved. And so begins the hassle of filing and dealing with an insurance claim.

Then came the question of Sunday. Blake needed to be at church a few hours ahead of us for meetings. I wasn't particularly keen on the idea of driving on slippery, snowy roads, not to mention trying to street park in that mess afterwards. But I felt like we needed to be at church (thanks in part to this Ensign article I read at breakfast). So after much deliberation, we decided that Blake would take the car, and I would haul everyone else to church on the bus. Which wouldn't have been so bad had the sidewalks not been one giant sheet of black ice that we had to maneuver in a drizzle of freezing rain. We made it, and by some miracle in one piece, but I quickly vowed to not do that again. So me and my tired, hungry children waited for 2 hours after church for Blake to finish up his responsibilities so he could drive us all home in the car.

I think it has a lot to do with the the hazards and difficulty of street parking in snow (usually very far away from your final destination), along with lives that are lived more outside on foot rather than in a heated car, that makes winter in Brooklyn so hard for me. Even the simplest of tasks can quickly become insurmountably challenging. Factor in the small children and the pregnancy, and I'd much rather spend these months hibernating.

Most of the snow has now melted, thanks to a spike in the thermometer and a lot of rain. If I can make it through tomorrow, when we're expecting more sub-freezing temperatures (and a forecasted windchill of -25!), which will undoubtedly turn all of our now-melted wet into a skating rink, I think the gloom that weather like this brings down on me will start to lift. I'm even taking precautions by altering our typical Tuesday schedule as much as I can so we don't have to be outside so much, which already is making me feel a little better. And -- AND! -- I have a trip to Provo in February to look forward to!

So one baby step at a time, we will get through this winter. And, if I'm feeling brave enough to handle life an entire week at a time, a new round of PBS Sunday night programming will definitely keep me going.

it's beginning to look a lot like christmas

We got the tree,

and the first real snow.

We traveled through Santaland....

...so we could sit/freak out on Santa's lap.

And while we were there, we admired the Macy's holiday windows,

as well as the beautiful truth that we were across the street from "where Buddy's dad works."

It also wouldn't be December without a round of pink eye (Garrett) and heavy congestion that two trips (an initial and a follow-up) to the pediatrician (the second of which took 3 miserably long hours) confirmed is not croup, RSV, or bronchiolitis but rather a really ugly cold (Matthew). (Caleb has so far been happily spared, a fact I'm going to attribute to how seriously he takes washing his hands.)

So we missed our ward Christmas party last night, and today, while everyone else is at church, we'll be hunkering down at home making gingerbread cookies.

Since, well, Christmas comes but once a year, so we might as well make the most of it.

new england in the fall

Boston and its surroundings have been on our sightseeing bucket list for a long time now, and this weekend we were finally able to make it happen. We started early Friday morning, heading north through Connecticut and into Massachusetts, arriving in Boston just before noon. Our aim for the day was to walk the Freedom Trail, hoping as we reached the various sites along the way that we'd be able to make the trek worth it, despite the furloughed National Park Service employees.

We embarked on the trail from the back end, starting at the U.S.S. Constitution. Unfortunately, thanks to the government shutdown, we didn't get to see much of it.

And so it was onto Bunker Hill. The visitor's center was closed, but the monument atop the grassy hill was free to view, and so we did. According to my family tree, I have an ancestor (David Pulsipher) who died on the 17th of June, 1775, at the Battle of Bunker Hill. Because the visitor's center was closed, I couldn't dive any deeper into that tidbit of information, but knowing that made this ground that much more hallowed.

 Following the red brick-lined Freedom Trail up to Bunker Hill.

To reach the next destination on the Freedom Trail, we had to cross the bridge over the Charles River/Boston Harbor. We didn't have any tea to ceremoniously dump in (sorry, Riley), but Garrett really enjoyed the part of the bridge that was a grate that looked right down into the water. It vibrated under our feet from the rush of passing traffic, which is why Garrett dubbed it the Ticklish Bridge, and why it was his favorite part of the day.

After the bridge, we started winding our way through Boston's old North End, where the streets are cobbled and narrow, and the buildings are as historic as the events that happened here. Among other things we saw were the Old North Church (of Paul Revere and "one if by land, two if by sea" fame), Faneuil Hall (which played an important role in revolutionary politics), the Boston Latin School (the country's oldest public school, dating to 1635, and boasting Benjamin Franklin as an alumnus), the site of the Boston Massacre, the Granary Burying Ground (where some very notable people are buried), and the famous Boston Common.

 Looking down a narrow street to the Old North Church.

Paul Revere's home was near here. It was getting crowded, and the kids were getting hungry, so we missed seeing it.

Faneuil Hall. We couldn't see anything inside, aside from the privately run touristy shops, thanks to the shutdown. Also thanks to the shutdown, we couldn't make a desperately needed pit stop, so we opted to hurry on.

 The Boston Massacre happened on this street.

 The statue of Benjamin Franklin stands at the site of the original Boston Latin School.

 The Granary Burying ground.

Buried here are Samuel Adams,

 the five who died during the Boston Massacre (they are buried in the Adams' family plot),

and Paul Revere (the small headstone to the right is the original marker), among others. John Hancock is also buried in this cemetery, but we missed his headstone. 

Nearly all of the graver markers were decorated with this Puritan motif called the Soul Effigy, a skull with wings that represented the soul flying to heaven. Since Puritanism was such a rigid religion, decorating tombstones was one of their only artistic outlets to express their beliefs about the afterlife.

At the entrance of Boston Common.

All of those sites along the Freedom Trail were well and good, and I'm glad we saw them. But my favorite part of Boston were the Public Gardens, just beyond the Common. They were beautiful, not crowded, and, most importantly, they were the home of Mr. and Mrs. Mallard and Jack, Kack, Lack, Mack, Nack, Ouack, Pack, and Quack.

 Make Way for Ducklings!

 The island where I'm assuming the Mallards made their home.

Getting back to our car was an adventure, and included a ride on the T, another crossing of the Ticklish Bridge, and a glorious face plant and many tears from Caleb. But we made it -- just in time to get stuck in rush hour traffic en route to what the boys lovingly termed our "hotel home."

Day Two of our New England weekend was spent in Concord. We started at Walden Pond.

 Replica of Thoreau's Walden Pond cabin.

 Walden Pond

 We hiked a lovely trail around the pond.

 It's true: you haven't lived until you've come to the New England woods, especially in the fall.

 Site of Thoreau's original cabin.

 I can see the appeal that enticed Thoreau.

We then made our way to the homes of Concord's famous 19th century Transcendental thinkers, as well as their final resting place; turns out they were neighbors both in life and death. Because of the hungry/whiny/sleepy children in the backseat, we didn't tour the inside of any of them. Someday, though, I'd like to go back to see more of the Alcott's Orchard House.

 The home of Ralph Waldo Emerson.

 The Alcott's Orchard House

The Old Manse, both an ancestral Emerson home, as well as once lived in by Nathaniel Hawthorne.

The birthplace of Henry David Thoreau.

 Author's Ridge at the Sleepy Hollow Cemetery in Concord, the final resting place of....

the Thoreau family (Henry's is the small headstone on the left), 

 the Hawthornes,

 the Emersons (who were as poetic with their epitaphs as they were in their published works),

 and all of the Alcotts.

This is what the boys did while we tiptoed through the cemetery.

The other attraction Concord has to offer is Minute Man National Historic Park, site of the Old North Bridge and the first skirmish ("the shot heard round the world") of the Revolutionary War. Because of that darn government shutdown, it was closed....but not so hard and fast that we couldn't park next door at The Old Manse and walk right over. We thought it fitting to cross the lines and rebel, albeit quietly, against the government-mandated closure since our forefathers did something so similar in the very same spot nearly 250 years ago.

The Old North Bridge (not original -- there have been six bridges on this spot since the one the colonists crossed in 1775).

Statue of a minuteman, done by Daniel Chester French, who also sculpted the statue of Lincoln at the his memorial in D.C.

Distant view of the bridge.

We stayed one more night in our "hotel home" before winding our way home on Sunday. But before we headed south, however, we ventured just a little bit farther north, into New Hampshire, to see Peterborough, the little town my ancestor's helped settle. After living there for a few generations, the branch of the family I'm descended from left to head west, thanks to some preaching done in the local church by Brigham Young and a few other LDS missionaries. About half of the town's inhabitants, including my ancestors, were baptized in a small canal near the church, and then left at this time. The Nays and McNees (same family; named just altered) who came before, though, are buried here, so we hunted down the oldest cemetery in town and found their headstones. 

William McNee (pronounced McNay), the first of the family to have settled in Peterborough, was not only a Deacon, he was also a Revolutionary War veteran, and is immortalized as such at the cemetery entrance.

William McNee's headstone.

More Nay family headstones, and there are quite a few more besides these. The name appears to have started changing with William's children.

 A view of the cemetery. All of the graves face east.

The chapel in Peterborough where Brigham Young and Company preached. The canal where everyone was baptized no longer exists, but from what I understand it was located in what is now an alleyway across the street from the church.

Peterborough is a stereotypically quaint New England town, and in fact was the model for Grover's Corners in Thornton Wilder's play, Our Town. Afterwards we took a few back roads to soak in the scenery and happened on this:

Remind me again why my family left this part of the country? So, so beautiful, what with the changing autumn leaves and the ancient low stone fences marking property lines.

And then it was really time to go home. It was a wonderful little getaway, and very much needed, if my rising anxiety levels as we neared New York City (and its accompanying horrible traffic) are any indication. Next up on my New England bucket list is Maine, now the only state in the region I haven't yet been to (and the one I just might want to visit most).