On the drive home, as the kids fought over who would hold the chicken box on his lap, I began to doubt the success of the kids with the chicks. I figured it was a good idea I’d arbitrarily chose three versus two chicks: one would certainly meet its fate under one of the boys, and being left with two chicks is far better than being left with one.

But I may be wrong. In fact, the prognosis is GOOD. I watched them with a smile all day long, as they gently trod around the garden, the chicks weaving in and out of their footpath. They encouraged us outdoors the entire day, and I found time to rearrange the rosemary and trim the papyrus, harvest parsley bolts and this and that. Ford mentioned “I never knew there were SO MANY BUGS in our yard!” because the chicks: they never stopped harvesting them, too.

Ford is, to my surprise, the new mother hen. And he’s a natural. To watch him cradle the chicks, or sprawl across the grass while the chicks scramble over him, for hours at a time, and compare this sight to the same child in a playdate full of little boys: one would never suspect the two images belonged to the one Ford. But it’s true. He’s come into his new role with all the fever of a new mother. Periodically, I’d have to come outside and feed him a yogurt or a half-sandwich because he was so preoccupied with shepherding the chicks.

But, as it turns out, they follow Ford everywhere; there’s no need to chase them down. They believe that Ford is the mama hen and will run up to his feet, peep imploringly with pinched eyes, and all he has to do is pick them up before they drop their heads on a thumb and fall asleep. Ford looked up at me after his pullet, Abby, fell asleep this way. He had reddish purple circles under his eyes, his face flush with afternoon sweat, dry grass dangling from his knees. “Don’t you just love the baby chicks? I’m not going to let anything happen to them.”

He is drinking water from a glass right now, pausing after each sip to raise his chin to the ceiling and gulp it down, just as he’s seen the chicks do when they drink from their shiny metal tray. He licks his lips and smiles, and I wink back. As I read him a new book at bedtime, he reaches over and pecks at my arm with his fingers. He’s just so impressed with his new brood. For fun, I paint little glittery dots on his finger- and toenails, and we’ll wait to see how the chicks respond tomorrow. But the young Mama Hen needs to go to sleep. And so do I. Tomorrow we build the coop!

It’s difficult at first, resisting the urge to keep working, but in order to create a smooth surface texture on encaustic paintings, such as these, you have to wait at least two days for the top layer of wax to cure before you can buff it. And these have been stacked and waiting patiently on my windowsill for a week (which, incidentally, is not the best place to cure an encaustic painting in the middle of summer, but it’s somehow worked so far in my home–at any rate, it’s safer than leaving them on a countertop or table, where the kids can reach them!). Now, all I have to do (if I decide each is finished) is take a chamois and buff the surface smooth. The result is so buttery soft and shiny. I REALLY dig this medium. When I’m finished with thee, I’ll share more pictures….

More Studio Friday.

I would love to have a fancy hardwood barn and dollhouse for the kids to play with. But they are expensive! I think I made a smart decision to recycle some boxes from Costco, fashion a good working barn from them and gesso it for the kids. One morning soon, we’ll get around to “decorating” it. Until then, it’s been getting good use as it is.

Since I can’t have my own Hanoverian gelding, I bought a pretty one at Target. It’s a Schleich and I named it Claus. When the boys ask me to play, I tap it across the rug in a meditative half pass left, then right, then I a collected canter around the rug’s perimeter. Chas will pick up a heifer and follow my little program. Ford picks up the Velociraptor and shrieks, thrusting it through the upstairs doorway, attacking the little brown rabbit.

And there you have it: the farm play “corner,” which actually is sitting atop Chas’ birth quilt, atop the chaise in the living room. But we carry it all over, sometimes outside. See more corners here.

Our kitchen table. This is as pretty as it gets (in the traditional sense), somewhere in the sunny hour between art time and lunch, after I’ve sprayed and wiped the surface, moving the essentials to the center: flowers (thank you John and Amy!), the water pitcher, the empty vase (which will be filled with markers in the final phase of clean up, after they’ve been picked up off the floor) (thank you, Chas), the paintbrushes, and the small vase with forsythia blooms. Yes, it’s already that time.

Take a peek at some other people’s corners.

Kid’s Kitchen

When I am cooking at of the stove, I’ll glance around the corner and watch Chas pull the bowls off the shelves of his small kitchen. One bowl is filled with chubby markers, another is filled with small Swedish tartlet molds, another is filled with cedar balls. He’ll sit atop the lambskin and rearrange contents, draw on the floor, throw the balls across the kitchen and into the living room. I’ll find them later behind the sofa, or between seat cushions.

Ford had my camera and was taking potshots at the clutter. Behold: Trains.

Take a peek at some other people’s corners.

This is the newly added little nature corner, a submission for Amanda’s Corners of My Home. I am participating so that I’ll be encouraged to dust and declutter the corners of my home. Actually, this little corner has a little collection of scrambled egg bits under the table that you can’t see in this picture. With clever photography, I was able to conceal it. See? I’m so smart.

Really, though, I don’t think anything can force me to dust and declutter. I was kidding about that. There will be much chaos.

This little nature corner is evolving from a plain white table that was originally intended to be a Little Art Corner. This was before I realized that my boys don’t do art in a little corner, just as they prefer not to pee simply in a toilet; they do it all over: even on the Bella rug. That poor rug.

The table is quickly growing into a little laboratory: here we have blooming shallots, pinto bean sprouts, what used to be a flowering cactus (I need to rotate that out already), a fickle pitcher plant (with button!) and a bowl of fruit that Ford just placed there.

I have big dreams for this little corner. I’m looking for a long but tall aquarium tank for a local stream fauna population (kind of a mini Bull Creek, which is along the hike we take so frequently), a microscope, and a little shelf beside the table for all of our nature books–as if they would all stay on a bookshelf! On the wall: seasonal art. Small shelf for gear: binoculars for a quick peek at the white wing dove, jars for looking at specimens, plant press.

I’ve enjoyed seeing other corners. Go ahead, take a peek!