Walnut Grove Trip: Saturday Morning

We woke Saturday morning relatively early considering our late night of swimming and we were on the road by 9 a.m. or so.  Our destination was the Laura Ingalls Wilder Museum but on the way we serendipitously stopped for some much needed gas.  That decision was fortuitous not because of the gas that was about $.25 cheaper a gallon than in Wisconsin, but because while we were there we looked through some brochures we had in hand and decided that, since it was so close, we'd take an unplanned detour and tour the Sod House on the Prairie, which ended up being one of the highlights of our trip.

The Sod House on the Prairie isn't connected to anything Laura Ingalls Wilder, at least not officially and, really, until we got there we weren't quite sure what it was.  It rests on an ordinary Minnesota working farm that just happens to be owned by a history buff.  In the 1980s, I believe, the history buff decided he wanted to make a sod house as it would have been made in the time of the early settlers.  He set about doing research, finding untouched sod and began his project.

What stands there today is a roomy sod house, an outhouse, a sod dugout house (much like what the Ingalls family lived in when they first settled in Walnut Grove), and a small log cabin.  These buildings are surrounded by natural prairie grass (but for the path that's been mown for easier walking; surely the owners don't want tourists getting lost in the prairie grass on their farm like Laura and Carrie Ingalls did in one of the Little House books).

First on the self-guided tour wass the sod house. 

The inside was rife with dresses, aprons, bonnets, and other prairie-wear and the kids wasted no time donning the trappings of prairie life in the late 1800s.

The inside was so fun and interesting too.  Not only could you see what the inside of a sod house might have looked like, but unlike most historical sites, you could touch, sit, and explore the furnishings and pretend you were living in that house.

Incidentally, the stove Madeleine is slaving away over in the photo above is the same stove Dad said he had in his childhood home in the 1940s only miles away on a farm in this part of Minnesota.

After leaving the sod house, we continued on down the path towards the sod dugout.

Diana and I both agreed that if we'd had to live for any considerable amount of time in a sod dugout, chances were good our families wouldn't have made it.  Dirt floors, ample room for mice, snakes and who knows what else to get in, not even to mention the time and effort to create heat, food, clothing, etc. I just can't imagine.

I don't know if you can get an idea from the picture above, but that one room and loft was about the size of the dugout house the Ingalls family moved into just outside of Walnut Grove (the book correlation is On the Banks of Plum Creek ).  At that time I believe the Ingalls family consisted of Pa, Ma, Mary, Laura and Carrie, which is the exact size of my family.  That room the kids are standing in was NOT large.  Oh, and Madeleine took a dim view of the idea that a bed might simply have ropes tied across for a mattress.

We had such a fun time exploring these homes, imagining what life was like for the people that lived in homes like them and, luckily, talking to the owners of the farm about how the homes came to be built and even about their appearance in a History Channel show called "Save Our History" (they appeared in an episode titled "Frontier Homes").

An unplanned stop, but like many other things in life, it's often the unplanned events that are the most notable, and that was true in this case.

Christmas Eve Recap

A lot of disjointed posts today. The house is getting cleaner and more organized, and so is my computer; 2008 will start out right!

This post, in and of itself, and notwithstanding these first two introductory paragraphs, will not be entirely disjointed since its sole purpose is to recap our Christmas Eve celebration, it's just that everything I've posted here today has been out of order, and this follows that pattern. But, who cares. It's still 2007; I can be organized and logical in 2008.

Christmas Eve kicked off our Christmas festivities. Dad, Diana and Alex (QV) joined us here for an early afternoon feast of roasted beef tenderloin, Mrs. Butland's potatoes, Pioneer Woman dinner rolls, glazed carrots with pecans and grapes, fresh green beans tossed with fresh garlic and tarragon and a tossed green salad.

Here's the table before the meal...


and during.


A five o'clock church service beckoned us after our meal and, with the children's assistance (Hank as a sheep and Madeleine as a reader) we celebrated the birth of our lord.

Here are the two older children in the church basement, readying themselves for their awaiting performance, Madeleine pensive and nervous, Hank excited and brimming with naughtiness with the prospect of sitting through the entire service relatively unsupervised.

Of course, all goes off without a hitch. Well, relatively. During the service a quick thinking parishioner near Hank snatched his bell when it hit the floor after he'd spent half the service serenading the congregation. When asked later how, if he wasn't playing with his bell that it managed to hit the floor Hank, ever the master of quick explanations, was stumped.

After, all head to our house for eggnog, punch and cookies.


And, for the three children, a Christmas Eve gift of...

fleece pajamas; blue with a white polar bear for Hank and light and dark purple stripes for the girls.

Shortly after the kids are anxious to get to bed so that Santa is sure to stop and the evening, full of excitement in its own right, but also brimming with anticipation, comes to a close as guest say good-bye and children say good-night.

Birthday Wrap-Up, Part Two

I didn't take many pictures this past weekend. No, actually I did, but I took them all Saturday evening while out in the lobby opening presents and eating cake. I took pictures of nothing else. Pretty lame, right?

We got to Door County Friday night a lot later than we typically do since Hank wanted to attend his last soccer practice of the season and that didn't end until 5 p.m. I think we rolled into the Landmark's parking lot around 8:30 p.m. The big kids headed over to the big pool with Grandfather while Superdad and I (well, OK, Superdad mostly) unloaded the ridiculous amount of things we'd crammed into the van.

That pretty much summed out the rest of the weekend as well. Our agenda was to simply make the kids happy, and that involved lots and lots of swimming. The entire assembled group, however, equaled about twenty people, and as you might imagine not everyone wanted to swim, so in the mid-afternoon a cutthroat game of Sheepshead began, with different players rotating in and out, paused for dinner, cake and presents and then resumed until the wee hours of the morning. Shopping, napping and running took place as well, depending on whims.

The festivities for the kids took place Saturday evening in the lobby of our building, which I can't say enough great things about. It's spacious, the views are incredible and somehow, despite the vaulted ceilings, skylights and floor to ceiling windows, also manages to feel cozy and homey. As always, we chose a condo right off the lobby, so taking cake and presents to the lobby is an easy feat and makes for a completely relaxing, enjoyable time (as does the restaurant and its pizza delivery service).

First up, pizza, salad, Jello (a special request from the birthday boy which Super Grandma obliged) and Izzes.


After pizza it was present time. We followed birthday order and since Elisabeth's birthday is two days before Hank's birthday, she goes first. Here she is with all her loot.


And here she is when asked, "How old are you, Elisabeth?"


Elisabeth was way too cute opening her presents this year. Upon opening each new package she would loudly say, "Awwwww." Here she is opening her loot. As you can see, she had quite a few helpers.


And then it was Hank's turn. Poor boy, it's hard to practice patience at your own birthday party, for Pete's sake and not be able to open your presents right away and then, when it is your turn, have your mother direct you to just sit still so she can take a few pictures. It's brutal. But he did it. He forced a smile and everything.


And finally opening his presents...


Then cake. Elisabeth first, again, with her mocha torte. In our family we have always, always put one extra candle on the birthday cake for good luck. I can't believe it, but I forgot to do it for Elisabeth this year so here she is with one candle for each year and no good luck. Bad, bad mommy. She doesn't seem to notice though.

And then it's Hank turn with a chocolate cake with chocolate frosting made by Diana. She did not forget the extra candle for good luck. Look what the punk did though. After we sang "Happy Birthday" Superdad's family-- the Ukrainian side-- always sings a Ukrainian birthday song and then "Sto Lat," a Polish birthday song (Superdad's Ukrainian grandmother spent most of her childhood living in Poland) immediately following, a fact Hank is well aware of. Apparently he just had quite enough of being patient because one second into the Ukrainian version (which I can't link because Ukrainian uses a Cyrillic alphabet) he blew out his candles. But ha ha, Hank, you missed one!

The weekend was perfect in almost every possible way. I always have a great time in Door County, but I think this may have been my favorite time yet.

We capped of our visit with a night with just the five of us and Sunday night and Monday morning we had the Landmark to ourselves, it seemed. The pool temperature had been cranked up and we just had the best time playing in the pool for a few hours, all by ourselves, Monday morning. Even Elisabeth, usually not a huge fan of swimming, was floating around and splashing and playing in the warm pool water. Leaving Monday afternoon was sad, as it always is but is the sadness is somewhat tempered with the knowledge that we'll go back again. Soon, I hope!

Solitude

Life is noisy. Not in a loud, hearing sense, but in the sense that our brains are never quiet. For the majority of us, there's never time to just be alone and think. There are always interruptions: dinner plans, school pick-ups, friends chattering, kids asking questions; the essence of our busy lives these days are noisy.

For my birthday this year I asked for, and was given, time alone. I have not spent it as I thought I might. I imagined I might want to shop, spend time in coffee shops and poke around town. Instead I've spent most of my time reading and in quiet contemplation. I've eschewed leaving my hotel room because it means contact and exchanges with the outside world. Instead I've chosen to hide myself away, emerging only for sustenance.

And it's been lovely. Instead of thinking about laundry and dirty diapers and appointments I've quietly and peacefully been absorbed with the ideas presented in Ayn Rand's Atlas Shrugged. I don't have to dismiss her or agree with her quickly and thoughtlessly; no, I can consider the ideas set forth and think about them. In quiet. And in peace.

I find that instead of meditating on one of the kids' latest escapades I'm spending more time in thought over where Ellis Wyatt and his friends have gone off too. And I know that by the time my solitude here is over that I won't want it anymore. I'm a social person by nature. I like people, I need companionship and I enjoy being a wife and mother more than I have any other role I've ever encountered in my life. Still though, this break from that reality is refreshing and much needed.

Thank you, Superdad, Dad and Diana-- what an incredible gift you've all given me for my birthday this year!

The Weekend

We're back. Happily, sort of, since we're home and it's always good to come home, but sad too. We had a wonderfully relaxing weekend and that smack of reality upon returning home isn't always the most welcome feeling.

Nonetheless, home are we. A bit more tired, perhaps, than before we left, but also full of more fun memories.

As always, we stayed here. In January I feel as if we're there by ourselves. The lobby with its breathtaking views of the bay was ours for the taking. The whirlpool in our building's basement was ours and ours alone no matter the time of day. And this time even the pool in the main building was desolate.

Here was the view from the condo in which Superdad, the kids and I stayed:


Most of our time was spent in the pool and whirlpool in the main building. But we also logged some serious hours in the whirlpool in our building. The kids loved this fun game (pictured below), taking their cues from hearing my sister and me talk about how we used to do it when we were kids and staying at the Landmark in January:


The whirlpool also affords a generous view of the bay and, as you see above, a walkout deck to appreciate that view. The kids made multiple runs outdoors in the freshly fallen snow in their swimsuits and then darted back into the whirlpool room to plunge into the steaming water.

And here's the birthday boy:


Happy Birthday, Dad!

Hiatus

We're off for a weekend of snow, game playing and celebrating my dad's birthday at our favorite getaway spot in Door County, Wisconsin. Hopefully I'll have anecdotes and pictures to share when we return!