The View From Here

When we lived in Iowa, Peyton's school was 20 minutes away from our house. I didn't mind the drive, because it was beautiful.

In the winter it was a steering-wheel-gripping adventure. We drove on icy roads:

See the tire tracks? If you didn't stay on those, you were extremely likely to go sliding around.

We drove under a train bridge:  

When there happened to be a train on it, Peyton and Ella would get so excited! No matter how cold it was, we'd have to roll down the windows and listen to it as we went under.

We drove past a snowpal family that lived on a roof:

I think that snowmen on the peak of a hard-to-reach roof is excellent proof that we lived in a college town.

And we drove down long roads surrounded by barren, wintery trees:

In the spring, the drive was bright and calming. 

We drove down long roads surrounded by lush, green trees:

Did you notice the last two pictures are the same road? In the spring, every time I would drive down this street, I would consciously take a deep, relaxing breath and admire this view.

And we also drove over not-so-rushing river bridges:

I loved that drive. I took pictures because I knew I would miss it. And I do.

Now that I'm in California, I drive two kids to two different schools.

Here's what I see when I drive to Ella's school:

And to Peyton's school:

You know, these views aren't too bad either.

Sweet, Delicious Terror

This year we decided to take Peyton and Ella strawberry picking. I put it on the To Do in Iowa Before We Move to California list. So that meant if we didn't pull it off I would have a void in my heart that can only be understood by hard-core list makers. DON'T MESS WITH THE LIST! It's how we are. It's what we do.

Of course they have berry picking elsewhere, like in California, and I'm sure it's just as fantastic, but I wanted to do it in Iowa. Because I wanted to do it in Iowa. Because it's Iowa. But the weather in Iowa is so wacky that it stormed consistently from 8 am - 12 pm almost every single day. Those hours, of course, are the very hours that you are allowed to pick berries at the Berry Patch.

We had only few precious days left to cross everything off Darcy's Crazy-Maker List, so James and I finally decided: TOMORROW IS THE DAY WE PICK STRAWBERRIES! RAIN OR SHINE!

The next morning: It stormed. And we didn't back down. Because we're awesome.

We drove up to The Berry Patch. The lady in charge handed us a couple of empty ice cream buckets for the kids:

And pointed us in the direction of the strawberries and blueberries with a warning, "If it starts to thunder, GET IN YOUR CAR!"

And off we went to find the strawberries:

And the blueberries:

And it poured.

But it was hot, so we braved it. In our shorts and rain jackets:

And I'm so glad we did! It was so much fun! Within a few moments the rain stopped.

One for the bucket:

One for me:

One for the bucket:

One for me:

And as we drove back to the front to look for cherries, I heard a faint but steady buzzing sound. And then I saw (from the safety of the car with rolled up windows) what I can only assume are my worst nightmare. Bee hives. Just writing that makes me shudder.

When I see a bee in real life, and my kids are with me, I do the whole, "Bees only bother you if you bother them," nonsense that parents tell their children. So, basically, I lie. Because I know. And while I'm winning my own personal Best Actress Award on the outside, inside I'm slowly dying of terror. Same with wasps and hornets and every mean, horrible bug out there in the world. Because they are ALL after me. Because they want to sting me and bite me and make me die a slow, horrible death.

James zoomed in to take this picture so you could see them better:

I took this picture so you could see how TERRIFYINGLY CLOSE I was to them:

A mere moment away from swarms of Darcy-stinging terror. I KNOW!

Then we drove over to the cherries. Here's the deal with the cherry trees. They are covered with gazillions of wasps. Did you know that? It's true.

I walked in bravely, tasted a cherry just to say I did, and decided no matter how sweet it was (and it wasn't), I wouldn't be risking my life by picking any more.

James and the kids were a little more brave (obviously the kids didn't notice the wasps):

On our way out, James bought me one of the metal picking trays. We're going to polish it up a little and maybe paint the wood handle white. Aren't they cute?

And what did we do with all our strawberries? We made fresh strawberry shakes! Ella was in charge of deciding how many strawberries went into the blender. So you know that means that every last strawberry got shake-ified.

Delicious! Totally worth defying death.

And I got to cross berry picking off my list - crisis averted!

Lightning

Last night we had a storm. Here's what I saw from my backyard (behind the safety of my sliding glass door because THERE ARE ALL SORTS OF BUGS out there and I'm not an idiot.):

Neat, huh?

Today we were back to hot, sunny weather. Complete with Simpsons' clouds. I'm pretty sure that's the technical name for them.

I KNOW it's a cumulus cloud. Geez. I know because when I googled Simpsons' cloud just now my magical computer told me so.

A Weather Lesson, Taught by Iowa

A couple of days ago we were standing in the backyard, watching a storm come in:

Kind of amazing, isn't it?

Storms in Iowa don't mess around. The storms that we're used to seeing in California are pretty lazy in comparison. I've learned a lot about storm personalities since moving to Iowa.

California Storm: It doesn't really roll in, it's just kind of there when you wake up in the morning. It's kind of cloudy and kind of rainy. And maybe a little cold. Like 50 degrees. Because it's probably the dead of winter. It's the same 50 degrees that used to send me scurrying to get my slipper socks. And a blanket and a chip clip. To make a slanket. You got something to say?

Iowa Storm: Runs in with its arms open wide like it's the baddest mf-er in all the land. Yelling, "Waz up, Bitches!" and covers the entire blue sky with dark clouds in 2 minutes flat. Seriously. And it doesn't care if it's winter or not. Winter, summer, it's all pretty much the same amount of suffering. Stifling heat. Freezing cold. And no, I don't think 50 is freezing cold anymore. Iowa winters have cured me of that. Especially ones like this:

Do you see what we suffer through here? Okay, really I took that picture two days ago. When it was 80. I totally made James turn the car around when I saw that sign so that I could take a picture of it and you would feel sorry for me. But it really does feel that cold in the winter here. I mean it!

Anyway:

I love our summer storms. I love that it can be hot and raining. I love that the lightning is sometimes so continuous that it's like a strobe light. I love that the thunder can be so loud that it shakes the house like an earthquake. I love that I have a basement because of these storms. I don't love that sometimes the storms bring tornadoes and destruction, of course, but I do appreciate their strength. The rain and wind and hail and more wind. And the ability for them to change the temperature from 80 to 60 in a matter of minutes. It's all so amazing.

Peyton used to love these storms. He knows how to turn on the emergency weather radio when it beeps to warn us of a storm. He knows how to click on the online weather maps on the computer. He knows that a yellow box over an area means a thunderstorm watch and a red box means a tornado watch. Like this (taken just a few minutes ago):

Peyton used to love it. But sometime after he and James started watching Storm Chasers things changed. Now every little thing he sees in the sky worries him because it must be a tornado.

So as we're watching the storm come in, Peyton looks across the street, through the trees and houses, and asks, in a fearful voice, "Is that a tornado?" And James and I both answer, "No," before/as we turn around to see what he's looking at.

Do you see what he was looking at? Let me give you a close-up:

Technically, no matter what, we're right. Because a tornado isn't a tornado until it touches the ground. Before that, it's just a funnel cloud. See, you learn all sorts of stuff living in Iowa.

And really, it was probably just the way one cloud was angled as it covered up another cloud. Maybe? I'm not sure. We didn't hear anything about a tornado the next day. But it is interesting. Iowa weather is always interesting.

And here's what the sky looked like the next morning:

Neat, huh?

We're moving back to California in a about a week. I will miss a lot about Iowa. Summer storms are way up on that list.

Dear Iowa, David Bowie called...

And he wants his magical snow creature back.

What the hell, Iowa. Sometimes you are just strange.

But, I have to say, I'll take seeing this wanna-be moth on my back door to this monstrosity any time. *shiver*

Kickin It Dutch Style

For Mother's Day my family and I took a day trip to a historical little town called Pella. Every year they have a tulip festival, which we missed by one day, because seriously, who holds a festival on only Thursday, Friday, and Saturday? Lame. But I just really wanted to see the town, so I made my sweet family all go with me. Since it was Sunday, everything was closed, but we still had a wonderful time just wandering around this little Dutch village.

It's a bit of a drive from where we live, so as we got close, we stopped off to get some lunch. And since it was Mother's Day I decided to make our lunch extra special by spilling my freezing cold glass of iced tea all over my sweet little boy. Ugh. He was so wet and so cold and I felt so bad. Luckily, there was a Walmart in the same shopping center, so James ran over and bought sweetie pie a whole new outfit and saved the day. Disaster averted!

And then we were off!

Pella has the cutest street signs ever:

They also have the tallest working windmill in the United States.

Bam! Iowa continues to rock it again and again.

And some really cool fountains:

And tulips:

And a church:

And a little village:

And more tulips:

And a real cannon!

And more tulips:

And basement windows that I thought only existed on Lavern and Shirley:

And the Molengracht canal. They dye the water dark blue:

It's so beautiful it doesn't even seem real.

And more tulips:

And beautiful painted tile:

And did you know that Wyatt Earp's boyhood home is in Pella?

And then on our way out of town we came across the West Market Park, in the Dutch Market area:

So we HAD to stop and play. My kids had the best time at this park! It's all wood and metal and it is the coolest park I've ever been to. Seriously. We could have spent all day playing here.

And then we drove home and I got to open some wonderful Mother's Day gifts.

Peyton's card:

Ella's card (she drew Mom Mom (my mom) and me):

I love board games. Love them! My kids are just getting to the age where we can play the kind of games that don't drive me slowly insane by sucking out my will to live. (I'm looking at you Candy Land.)

So my husband let them each buy me a non-crazy-making family game for Mother's Day. Isn't that so sweet and thoughtful? Thanks, honey!

Peyton picked Sorry.

Ella picked Sorry Sliders. (Have you played this game? It's totally fun!)

James picked Operation.

The best part? James promises to play with us on our new Friday Game Night! Yay! He's always hated games, but he's making a serious effort for our kids' sake. Oh, the sacrifices!

Anyway, a few days before Mother's Day, Peyton had given me one of my gifts that he had made in kindergarten. This awesome banner, complete with flowers and bugs (it's a cricket and two ladybugs):

But he said he was saving the other gift for Mother's Day, because "It is very, very special, Mommy." He was so excited about this special gift. And James told me that he even hid it in a special secret hiding place in his room so that I wouldn't find it when I tucked him in at night. So sweet.

My special gift? A wonderful little box that Peyton had decorated. He said, "You don't even need to open it, Mommy! It's filled with hugs and kisses and lovin's. And you hold it to your heart so you can feel it." Oh my Lord. It cannot get any better than that.

Thank you, my sweet family. It was a beautiful day.