Christmas at StrongStart

 

Tissue paper wreath made by Tahi and Samson.

This year at Christmas time there was boundless creativity at our local North Vancouver StrongStart. Our local co-ordinator, Mandana, had found a magnolia branch that had broken off a tree and was lying on the sidewalk, so she brought it in, set in a pot with some rocks, and we had a seasonal tree to decorate. We proceeded to create many different ornaments, some of which reflected our respective cultures, until we had a gorgeous tree.  We also created with felt, made a playhouse out of a box and one morning, when everywhere in North Vancouver had snow but us at sea level, one of our Strongstart dads and his son brought snow on the roof of their car down from their place up on the hill,  then proceeded to build a snowman in front of the window. It was very special.

  Here's a toast to a very special place with many wonderful people. The inspiring creativity, friendship and homey feel at our local StrongStart is something to cherish and I'll look forward to another great year there.

Santa's legs sticking out of the chimney.

Flower on the windowsill.

Samson trying on Santa's beard.

A very happy santa!

David and Samson adding some hair to their snowman.

 

APPLESAUCE in PICTURES

Cook until tender. Mash with potato masher. Then freeze in jars, store in fridge for a couple of weeks, or, if you're you've really got some time, can it. Need I say more? It's pretty simple and very delicious.

CAMPING

   When I was growing up, we didn't really camp. I envied those kids who parents packed their station wagons full of camp gear each year to go have fun in nature. I don't know if it was because I watched too many fun camping movies in the eighties or that my friends really seemed to look forward to their camping trips, but it seemed like something all families should try.

My little morning sprite.

Isla loves balancing on things.

   I've always needed to be close to nature as much as possible, so when I became a teenager my friends and I started camping each summer on one of their dad's large forested properties. All we took with us was enough dried food to last a night, some water and our sleeping bags. We had no tents and barely any other gear. It was quite a hike to our spot by the creek, the nights were always very cold and the ground was hard, and yet I always looked forward to next year. Maybe it was the solidarity of a group of good friends roughing it together, or falling asleep under the stars to the sound of rushing water or the fact that I was finally camping, but whatever it was, I loved it!

   Now, many years later, I've become like the parents of my childhood friends and am stuffing our SUV full of gear and going family camping together. Although we have a tent and some gear, it's still roughing it enough that we feel the fresh air keenly and the trees all around us, and we begin to forget TV, cell phones and the like. We become very present and in the moment because camping somehow becomes your whole world when you're doing it and everything else seems to disappear. The kids run around barefoot and wild, playing games in the giant old stumps and as parents we give them as much freedom as we can. I believe that all kids need some of this wild freedom for their young souls to grow happily. It counteracts some of the "don't do that", "stop it", "no, don't touch that" that inundates them at home on a daily basis, and instead allows them to just be.
    We've been going with our parent group for a couple of years now and it was so wonderful to bond with the other parents whom we love so dearly, while watching our kids play the way kids do who have known each other their whole lives. The whole experience was beautiful.
  I hope that if our kids have families when they're all grown up that they'll want to load up their futuristic, solar cars with camping gear and take their kids out into the woods to camp, too.
   

The forest floor was moss-covered and magical. It was 

like the Night Garden set, but for real.

The Lost Boys.

Three little sleeping beauties.

The Dads trying their hand at log rolling after I tried to do it. ( I used to do it every summer for years in our local lake.)

Remembering Rick

Here's to a remembering a beautiful spirit-
A man who became a father to my sister and me after he had already raised his own four children to adulthood. He never complained once about having to start over. He only told us daily that marrying our mom was the best thing that happened to him, because not only did he get an amazing wife, but two more beautiful daughters. He loved us with all his heart and made sure that we knew it.
   Rick was the kind of step-dad that made me not want to include the "step" because it seemed to diminish the fact that he parented us as lovingly as our own father did.  
  I vowed never to marry until I had what these two had- an unbelievably strong love for one another that only grew stronger as the years passed. It was a rare love that inspired me and made me believe in happy endings. Now I'm lucky enough to have a love like Mom and Rick had.
 
   He passed on too soon, but will never be forgotten. He was a shining example of unconditional love and an inspiration to us all.

THE DOLLHOUSE

Gnome house.

  The Christmas of my kindergarten year my dad built my sister and me a sturdy wooden dollhouse from scratch. Since he no longer lived with us, he delivered it Christmas morning  complete with dolls and furniture( by Fisher Price ), and a realistic wooden table and chairs with matching dining table and hutch. To add even more to the delightful surprise, he had drilled holes in the second floor roof which he had strung mini Christmas lights through which made the whole house glow with a warm light. I can remember it as clearly as if it were yesterday. From that moment on I was hooked on the magic of miniature things and dollhouses. Something about things that are just like the large sized object in every way, and yet much smaller, gives me this kind of feeling that I think only miniaturists truly understand, but I liken it to seeing the presents under the Christmas tree on Christmas morning. 


   My sister and I spent almost every weekend of our childhood at our grandparent's house, and when my Opa found out I loved dollhouses, decided to build me a grand one. The plan was by Houseworks and is still in print as it's such a popular design. It was a grand, three story Victorian. He built it from scratch from a plan and I helped finish the details. We put hundreds of real mini shingles on the roof, I chose wallpaper and flooring and glued it on, he wired every room with light and plugs for the lights, and on and on. It was a treasure. Every now and again he'd drive my sister and me to this warehouse laden area of North Vancouver where we shop for parts and furniture in an amazing but very dusty shop. It was the only time we came to North Van. I looked so forward to these visits, and over the years, between this shop, travelling to Europe, going to miniature fairs and making my own things, I've amassed quite the collection of beautiful, tiny objects.


   After a number of years of enjoying this dollhouse, fast forward to me leaving for University from the small town I was living in at the time. My parents moved away as well, taking with them only a small trailer. The dollhouse was given to friends nearby for safekeeping. Sadly, the barn it was put it had mice and it was so damaged that it had to be burned. I never saw it again.

Two pieces of a branch with the bark sanded off  to make it look
 like giant posts are on either side of  the upstairs bedrooms.

   After mourning the loss of the house, I decided one summer, while staying with Dad in his country home complete with workshop, that I would get over it and build my own dream dollhouse. I had only a rough sketch and no real plans, but with perseverance,  I managed to complete the shell of my dream home, with a large stain glass window, thirteen rooms, a stage in a ballroom with a backstage and dressing room on the top floor, all working lights and tiny plugs, crown mouldings and much more. I finished this by my fourth year in university, moved back to Vancouver and got an apartment. Even when I had Westin, we were still living in an apartment. My dad in the meantime had moved to Scotland for a while, was renting out his house and didn't want my house in the way of the renters. So we moved it out to his little artist's studio. Despite my protests, he really didn't think he could keep it in the house, and we had so little room as it was, so it stayed there for a while. I went one day to check on it, and to my chagrin saw that mice had gotten in and it also needed to be burned for safety reasons. 

Mall parking garage.

  In the meantime I had also built a miniature cabin at my mom's house but when I visited one time, she admitted that she had kept it her storeroom, which, you guessed it, had been moved into by mice and destroyed. 


   Clearly I should stop building houses for myself and just make them for mice right off the bat because they sure are popular with them. It didn't help that everyone storing the houses for me lived in the country where mice can abound. But still, what are the odds?


  

Train shed.

So the last time we were at my mom and stepdad's house, I decided to build a house for the kids and keep it in our mouse-free home to enjoy for, hopefully, many years. I knew I'd build a fancier one once we built our shop, but I wanted a simple one with an open plan that would allow for anything their imaginations would allow them. 

So, using only my vision and scraps of reclaimed fence wood and barn wood, I built a five room house which looks very woodsy and natural and the kids just love! I hope this is the start of many long-lasting dollhouses.

My sister, Vanessa, playing with our amazing Victorian dollhouse.

A few treasures: citrus, glass and copper vases, citrus juicer and cookie cutters.

Vanessa and Jennifer mugs and fancy dishes from Germany.

Dollhouse windows I gave a stained-glass look.

The dining hutch I got with that first dollhouse.

The first fancy dolls I got for the Victorian house. ( From left: Sir Gregory, Lady Alice, the twins and Tommy)

A few things I made for a miniature sale a few years ago.

Tiny music books.

  When we moved to Norgate, I discovered by some lovely twist of fate, that my beloved dollhouse shop, which I hadn't been to in years, was actually within walking distance of our home. As a child I had no concept of where it was, so it was a surprise that it was so close to us now!

Thanks for sharing in my dollhouse joys and tears. If you have any of your stories, don't hesitate to share them in the comments section.