Sebastian's imagination is roaming these days. He talks about impossibles that quickly become truths around the house. For example, Sebastian and Poppy go to work together in their "car-car" and we have to bid them farewell. This usually happens on Sunday, the one day of solid family time for us. I say, "Hey Sebi, neither Mama or Papa have to go to work today!" and he replies, with a serious look, that he in fact is heading off with Poppy. Fair enough. He also works with Shed staff in various awesome places, such as "sky!" or "in a boat!" At first some Mom-guilt set in about his boundless imagination settling on the mundane, work of all things, but I quickly realized it's a form of mimicking and relating, and it's fine. 

Work is a big topic around here, though, especially this summer. When I'm not down at the taco stand on the weekend, Sebastian often has to endure my long phone conversations about Shed logistics, stock orders, or run out with me mid-day when I'm not supposed to be working. There are other sorts of work, too, of course. Laundry, cooking, gardening, cleaning and so on. And emails to UBC, bouts of editing and reading for my freelance stuff. Alex is working four days a week on Keats as well, and throughout the day Sebi often checks in with me to makes sure that Papa is in fact at work. 

He doesn't ever seem frustrated about all this work, although the transition back into the summer schedule made him clingy for a couple of weeks. We make sure to lay as low as possible whenever we can. Most days we play in the garden or go for walks. I like to think it keeps us sane. 

"Coco-Baby" and "Baby Girl." If Sebastian had his way, he'd own all the Thrift Store orphans...

Happy baby in Happy Baby

Little Russian

I keep hearing the term "Juneuary." Our gardens are in strange ways here on the West Coast. Our greens are bolting before they even really begin, and all squash varieties have it backwards with female flowers blooming without any males in sight. I've even seen ads requesting male squash flowers for hand pollination... But there are tiny triumphs: a handful of cherries every morning, a few radish or strawberries here and there. And the rest just on the cusp: tomatoes ripening, potatoes growing, peas towering. Alex built an awesome hot house from old glass we found under the deck, so the tomatoes, peppers, cucumbers, basil and tobacco are thriving. We have a lot just hanging on in the garden. Once the sun comes... it will be glorious. Right? This year, we're still nowhere near the amount of food we'd like to grow and we still have little pockets of the yard to clear and plant in, but for now I think we're doing all right. We've done a lot of companion planting this year: squash, potatoes, nasturtium, and borage together. Onions, leeks, potatoes, kale and beans together. Peas and radishes. Strawberries, borage, potatoes and kale. Cabbage and rosemary. Next year we'll add more companion planting and try planting with the moon cycle. The Farmers Market is full of garlic scapes, carrots, greens. It's all just starting... 

POPPEE

Oh, it's been so long since I wrote. I didn't mean to lapse this long.
Tonight felt like a damp October evening. I alone stood in the taco stand for a long, long time watching the rain fall on the harbour, the lamps click on, only the very odd person stroll down to buy fish from the boat with their umbrella in hand. Days like these are bad for business and bad for spirits. After so many months of rain, you just want sun, and you can't believe the weather will ever break. I cleaned up early, got on the old bike and came home to a sleepy kid who stayed up to say goodnight.
There have been summer-esque days, but summer hasn't started yet. We haven't swan in the ocean yet. We've had just enough sunshine to keep the garden alive, though we spend every day, all day, outside in the yard. Sebastian especially. I watch him through the kitchen door while I make bread or wash the dishes. He's got a meticulous garden set-up out there: pots of earth, springs of oregano and chives "growing," a broom, a mighty shovel which he heaves around. He helps himself to strawberries and herbs. He plays in the yard for hours at a time.
He's increasingly independent, this boy of ours. He's acquired entitlement to three main household facets lately: the fridge, the toilet, and the taps. These are common sounds around the house: fridge door opening, closing, then little grunts and "oohh heavy, heavy, oooohh" as I see him round the corner with a big jar of peanut butter or half a watermelon; the sound of him peeing in his potty then lifting the toilet seat, pouring his pee into the toilet, then flushing the toilet (too my water-saving chagrin); and finally, that infamous trickle of water that I can often tune out for ages without realizing that the tap is running. He's learning so many words, sometimes several a day, and putting together little sentences. He still uses his baby sign for some words, which I love for some reason.
Last night we celebrated the summer solstice with friends around the fire, salmon and salad from the garden. I also made a raw key lime pie which I have been a bit obsessed with. This house is great for (good) company. We have so much space, and enough nooks and crannies that everyone can find their place and feel at home. I came inside throughout the evening to find Uma and Isla had made a fort under the big farm-house kitchen table with pillows and blankets, while Sebastian and Caskey jumped on the bed in the "club house" (as Caskey calls the cabin). I think it's really good for kids to have their own space to interact with. Maybe that's one reason I love watching Sebastian so involved in his world outside. I had so much unstructured space as a child,  one where I could disappear into a world without adults, without control, without meddling. One without toys-- just objects that can become anything. I think kids these days are losing that a bit, but from what I see, these moments are where kids learn to be together properly and figure out all those tough but beautiful lessons that remain so poignant throughout life.

I've had offensive cultural appropriation on the brain for a few days now. I've been wanting to make Sebastian a little tent or hide-out for Alex and I's attic room and the garden for a while, and thought about make a little teepee-esque structure. The teepee is an ingenious invention. I have slept in many-a-teepee throughout the summers. We had a Teepee Village at our summer camp growing up where kids would spend the entire month or two living, fire and all, instead of in a cabin. It didn't even occur to me that throwing a teepee up in the yard for my kid could be offensive to anyone.
The other day I was on Apartment Therapy (as crucial to my day as email, coffee, and oatmeal) and lo-and-behold, there was a tutorial for making a kid-sized teepee that they could colour on. And then there were about fifty comments following, the majority of which expressed horror that AT would support this offensive act of "culture appropriation." I was shocked and fascinated. I toiled over the comments, sifted through all sorts of other teepee-related designs and crafts that they had featured over the years (including a cardboard teepee cat house), none of which received nearly as much of an outcry. By the end of the day, the post was flat-out removed. A part of me thought, "Cowards!" Another part of me wondered what I was missing. I ended up at different sites dedicated to cultural appropriation, and was kind of blow away by the heaviness of seemingly-innocent mainstream allusions to First Nations culture seem to have on a lot of people. I learned that dressing as an American Indian for Halloween is racist (not saying I would do this, because it seems in poor taste, but I didn't think it would be considered racist). I'm still confused about why some acts of appropriation are racist and some are completely acceptable.
Even after all my reading I wasn't convinced that something like a child, or anyone, making a teepee-like structure with no ill-intent was still offensive, appropriation or wrong. Maybe I just don't get it. But I'm going to ask just about anyone I can for a while, First Nations and otherwise, because I'm really interested in this.
Yesterday, I was up the road at our friends' place while they prepared to renovate their basement. There, amongst a pile of thrift-store bags and old toys, was a beautifully crafted teepee-like tent my friend made for her son when he was younger. It was precious and thoughtful and, without hesitation, I took it home. If anyone has a problem with it, I'll happy engage.