in the orchard

More Oliver pics. Because I go in spurts of not taking pictures for months and then feel I need to make up for lost time by going on a photographing binge for a few days.

Oliver, Amélie and I headed out to the orchard the other day, to see where apples come from. On the way up, I regaled Oliver with stories of his great grandma (Grandmama) picking apples when she was young, which apparently caught his fancy. The first thing he wanted to do when we got there was pick his own apple off the tree. I think this is actually frowned upon in this orchard (apples are picked out of the bins in the retail area), but it was such a great moment I couldn't stop him from picking just one (I was responsible enough to kibosh ensuing attempts).

Arriving


Heading to an apple tree


This one's too high


This one's just right!


There's also a petting zoo on site, with goats ...


And chickens


Making friends




I bought these shoes in England about 14 years ago for my niece. They've been through her and her younger brother and now, finally, my own child can reap the benefits. I would never have imagined, when I bought them, what I was investing in. Oliver now calls them "Your (he refers to himself in the third person) English shoes."




Peeking in the chicken coop


There was also a pumpkin patch on site


This one's just about right


Biting into a fresh off the tree, crisp, sweet, juicy apple


And that's a wrap!

equal play

I've been taking a lot of pics of Oliver lately - mostly because he does more. So, to even things up, before I post more Wolsey pics I'm going to show off Baby Ammers a bit. She's really a joy to photograph, not the least because she doesn't get all camera shy like her big brother does and constantly run in the other direction, or have to be bribed to look at me when I've got the camera out!

Amélie at two months



Is it just me or is she not an absolute doll??



Butter wouldn't melt in this mouth (whatever that means)



Well, maybe she's got a little cockey streak - I guess she comes by it naturally!


Okay, just one shot with "Big Brover Oliver"

fall fair

We turned work into play last weekend when I headed to a neighbourhood fall fair on the other side of town, family in tow, to take some pictures for the paper.

It was just a small event, to raise money for the B.C. Cancer Society, but the park where it was held was just crawling with kids. While Oliver couldn't do a lot of the stuff going on - like the climbing wall - and the queues for some of the attractions, including face painting, were just too long for his impatient parents to stand in, he still got to have a little fun while baby sister Amélie blissfully slept.

Here's a sampling of his afternoon:



Oliver was chuffed to see a fire truck parked on site.



And even more delighted to learn he could actually climb up and sit in it.



Not so pleased about having his picture taken with the friendly fireman, however.



Rockin' out on a rocking horse



The nylon tunnel was a huge hit!



He was a little skeptical about getting on the real horse, at first ...



But didn't take long to warm up to the idea ...


And as I watched him disappear around the track, I was hit by the contrary realities of my baby boy growing up so fast, now taking his first horseback ride, and his tiny body teetering on the back of this comparatively huge animal. I'm learning it's a typical feeling for a parent - cheering them on as they learn and grow and trundle their way past milestones, looking forward to whatever's next, while fighting the niggling feeling that it's all happening that little bit too fast and can we please sustain the moment just a little longer please?



Alas, all good things must come to an end ... until next time ...

christopher robin

Oliver went through a stage of wanting to be called "Tom Kitten" (from the Beatrix Potter story) followed, briefly, by Tom's sister "Moppet." His current fixation, however, is with Christopher Robin. Here he is, in the backyard, reinaction the "tut tut, looks like rain," scene. The boots, obviously, are mine.

wolseyisms

Today I'm wearing a pair of green corduroy trousers I got when I was pregnant with Oliver because a) they were uber cheap and b) they were size 9-10 so they could travel with me through much of the pregnancy. And after, whilst biding my time waiting for my size to go back down. They've been worn a lot over the past almost three years, and now, as I discovered today, sport a little tear at the back, beside the belt loop.

This fact was actually pointed out to me by my ever observant son, who caught me off guard by poking his finger in the hole and announcing, 'there's mamma's tummy.' After neverminding him away, he began to hypothesize to himself. It went something like this:

'Mamma's tummy sticking out a little hole. That's where Baby Amélie popped out.'

For the record, the hole is about half an inch in length, and we have never had That conversation with him, or even alluded to it, aside from telling him there was a baby in mamma's tummy. Tummy, mind you, not hip.

Yep. Off to the store now to get myself a new pair of trousers.

the still, small voice

We had a thunderstorm yesterday afternoon – an amazing light show with a deep, rumbling soundtrack that was lots of fun to watch … but I didn’t hear the Lord’s voice in the thunder.

Before that, as I was cooking dinner, Amélie was screaming like a banshee while Oliver raced around the kitchen island on his “motorcycle” (actually a riding truck) like a whirlwind … I didn’t hear the Lord’s voice in the screaming baby … or the whirlwind … or the oven timer.

Even earlier, I was frantically typing out a story that was due in mid-August (but got extended thanks to the patience and understanding of my editor, who himself has three kids) … but the Lord’s voice wasn’t in the clicking of the keys.

It brings to mind this verse:

“And he said, Go forth, and stand upon the mount before the LORD. And, behold, the LORD passed by, and a great and strong wind rent the mountains, and brake in pieces the rocks before the LORD; but the LORD was not in the wind: and after the wind an earthquake; but the LORD was not in the earthquake: And after the earthquake a fire; but the LORD was not in the fire: and after the fire a still small voice.” I Kings 19:11-12

Life can get pretty hectic, and not just when you have two young children – or even one. Work, play and myriad obligations can pull us in all directions. Even in our down time there are televisions, MP3 players and telephones that can keep our ears humming and our minds occupied. And let’s not forget the less auditory but equally engrossing internet, filled with status updates and blogs and no end to interesting sites that can fill the quiet spaces of our lives.

It all makes it so easy to go an entire lifetime without ever hearing that still, small voice.

I started to think about this more deeply after reading this blog entry a few weeks ago, and this one today.

There are so many reasons why it’s beneficial to be still and quiet – to hear nothing but your own thoughts. It lets your mind decompress, for one thing, to let its guard down after the barrage of stimulation we’re surrounded with here in 2009. It opens a window to possibly – just possibly – develop an original thought (or at least original to you). It settles frayed nerves after a day of screaming, whinging (the children and you) and go, go, go. And it gives God a window of opportunity where He might be heard speaking to your heart.

Don’t get me wrong – I’m not knocking hustle and bustle. After all, the verse says the wind and the earthquake and the fire were all a result of the Lord passing by. They’re not necessarily bad things. The trick is to find the balance. And then, maybe, cope better with the commotion as a result.

Being raised a Seventh-day Adventist, you’d think I (and the whole lot of us) would have this thing sorted. After all, we believe that God created the Sabbath for just such a purpose – a day with no obligations to work or run errands, go shopping or tie up any loose strings. It’s a whole day devoted to opening yourself up to hearing the voice of God. But some how, between church, “fellowship” (often tantalizing gossip sessions), meals and extended naptime, the day slips away without much opportunity to actually be still (still AND conscious, that is).

So what’s my point? I wish I could wrap this up neatly with a promise to take half an hour or even 15 minutes each day to be still and quiet, maybe open my Bible and read (I was going to read it in a year but never got passed Genesis!) or convince you, dear reader, to do the same. But realistically, speaking only for myself, chances are pretty slim right now.

But then I think of flying in an airplane and how they tell you, in case of emergency, to put your own oxygen mask on before you help your child do the same. Because if you do it the other way round you might pass out before you help yourself and then you’re no help to anyone. Maybe it’s the same with stillness. And if it’s not every day, at least a few times a week is surely a good start … for everyone. I hope I can find out …