Coasting

364/365
1:42p.m.

Do you remember this shot from just under a year ago? John got Jack out on skates at Hillington Green, and although it's doubtful there's an Olympic experience any time in his future, he did seem to enjoy it. And, like last year, we have Hillington Green dads to thank for such an awesome opportunity!

The Morning After

343/365
9:15a.m.

Announced by all the trumpets of the sky,
Arrives the snow, and, driving o'er the fields,
Seems nowhere to alight: the whited air
Hides hill and woods, the river, and the heaven,
And veils the farmhouse at the garden's end.
The sled and traveller stopped, the courier's feet
Delated, all friends shut out, the housemates sit
Around the radiant fireplace, enclosed
In a tumultuous privacy of storm.
Come see the north wind's masonry.
Out of an unseen quarry evermore
Furnished with tile, the fierce artificer
Curves his white bastions with projected roof
Round every windward stake, or tree, or door.
Speeding, the myriad-handed, his wild work
So fanciful, so savage, nought cares he
For number or proportion. Mockingly,
On coop or kennel he hangs Parian wreaths;
A swan-like form invests the hiddden thorn;
Fills up the famer's lane from wall to wall,
Maugre the farmer's sighs; and at the gate
A tapering turret overtops the work.
And when his hours are numbered, and the world
Is all his own, retiring, as he were not,
Leaves, when the sun appears, astonished Art
To mimic in slow structures, stone by stone,
Built in an age, the mad wind's night-work,
The frolic architecture of the snow.

Ralph Waldo Emerson, The Snow Storm

Nap-Skipping Worthy

326/365
4:13p.m.

Very few events can successfully be categorized here. The no-nap meltdown will happen, not if. So, you must very carefully pro/con your activity in advance, systematically weighing the figurative cost level down to the penny. When we went to see Justin Roberts this summer at Ravina, we cautiously erred in favor of the nap over music. Tsk, tsk, we walked away thoroughly regretting our decision not to bring our napper. Alas, we wouldn't make the same mistake twice.

The boys went kookoo bananas, and Pop Fly is now plastered to my brain. Happily.

Forward Ho!

204/365
11:25am

We took the boys out on Lake Wingra for lovely Sunday morning row. Lovely is a relative term, and there will be several of you, dear readers, who may think being trapped on a moving boat with children is worse than, say, Alcatraz because at least Alcatraz doesn't rock through the water and the children don't jump out. Not that they did, mind you. It actually was quite lovely, if I do say so myself, especially once I lent a deaf ear to "when are we going back to the docks?" Madison graced us with her awesomeness again in the form a perfectly glowy sun and cotton candy clouds, perfectly rippled water, and, most importantly, a perfectly sealed, non-sinking canoe.

Good times.

Ode to George B Post

239/365
10:41am

Wisconsin's Capitol has one HELL of a dome, and it's the closest thing to the Sistine Chapel I may get for awhile. The arches, the pendentives, the mosaics, the sculptures, the murals, the light, the marble, oh my. I bet our state capitol can beat your state capitol (Austin & DC, you're not allowed to play).

Overdue Fun

207/365
6:27pm

How is it that we've lived here for seven sultry summers and missed [um, free] Concerts on the Square entirely? Easy. We've wanted to go, but we're kinda known in the parenting community as Sleep Nazis, and well, our children are sliding into crisp star sheets and settling into Beatrix Potter's latest adventure before The Wisconsin Chamber Orchestra has even started tuning their instruments.

These events and experiences make Madison fabulous, and it was time we we were a part of it. We took the bus down the the Capitol Square (and, I swear, if that was all we did, the kids would have been just as thrilled), met some super fab friends, and set up shop as a component of the ginormous community patchwork quilt on the lawn. There was eating, there was chatting, there was playing, there was wine, there was music, there was laughter, there was culture, and, surprisingly, there was very little Toddler Meltage.

And we'll do it again without hesitation because Beatrix Potter can wait for this.