The boys won an award for their tandem costume at the Mason's annual Halloween party.


But you can't forget the butter!

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Trevor wanted to take home a sheep from the Champlain Valley Fair. I draw the line at chickens.

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Sixth graders are the oldest kids in the school and they get to sit in the back of the bus. It's hard to be so cool.

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It's not easy to get a photo of the back seat when you're driving, but I had to try. Trev opened his window in the rain and leaned back to catch drops full in the face. He isn't asleep there, he's just enjoying the sting of the rain on his face with the tiniest hint of a smile, which is so awesome.

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This is the test run of the candy buffet for Trevor's birthday party at the end of this month. It needs a little "oomph" before it's ready -- some pedestals and filler decorations -- but it's a good, solid start of edible sugar treats which will turn twelve pre-teens into raving lunatics before I send them off to play in the pool and shoot each other with water guns.



I read the idea on the Hostess with the Mostess blog. Trev walked by my laptop, saw the picture, and asked if he could have one at his birthday party. With dollar store glassware and candy, the layout wasn't all that pricey. For a fancier party, I'd do a color theme.

Hey, you only turn ten once. And... um, because we moved towns right before Trev's birthday last year, he didn't have a party at all. That's a glass full of mom's guilt in that second bowl to the left, I think.

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Last year, we moved to the island too late to attend the Recreation Department's Nature Camp, but we made sure to get a spot for this summer.



On the first day we made quill pens and journals, hunted for insects and frogs, and learned about ant lions. Trevor and his buddy dug holes in the ground and set pitfall traps for insects. They also hiked, made castings of animal footprints, had a scavenger hunt, and more. It was a fun time in what has otherwise been a rainy and thundery summer.

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We were at Fisk Farm on Sunday to hear three young classical musicians play -- and, of course, eat tea and cake. There's an overlook at the back of the farm that drops off into Fisk Quarry. It's an excellent spot to view the quarry, or just sit while digesting double chocolate cake and lemondade.

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We've given up on mowing the field this year and it's getting tall enough to hide a boy.



The cats like to play hide and seek with each other in the hay. They often come trotting out of the high grass with a frog dangling from their mouth by one leg. I've seen Miley stun a grasshopper, at which point a chicken ran over and grabbed it then skittered away. Sometimes it's like wild kingdom around here.

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Trevor was a trapper again in this year's Alburgh Independence Day Parade. Unlike last year, he wasn't sitting in the main canoe on the trailer, instead he carried a cardboard canoe with a friend. That wool hat looks hot, but I bet the boots were comfortable.

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Trevor and I played a rousing game of extreme pick-up sticks the other day. In extreme pick-up sticks, you're allowed to attempt to startle the other player with yells or make them laugh and shake the sticks.

The set was from the dollar store and the instructions on the package didn't match the set. It said that green sticks were worth ten points, but there were no green sticks. Red sticks were worth three points, but every stick had a red stripe on it. We made up our own scoring and proceeded to scream and laugh through three games. Then it got out of hand and the sticks became poking devices, which is when we were shut down by the feds.

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A couple of months ago, Trevor created a little terrarium in a mason jar for a scouting project. His parsley, oregano, and basil have been growing happily (if leggy) in there ever since. A few weeks later, he found a woolly bear caterpillar defying winter hibernation with a walk in the field and put him inside as well.

I fully expected the little guy to die in there -- who knew if woolly bears ate pizza herbs? But sure enough, we came downstairs one day to find that Barry the Caterpillar had spun himself a little brown cocoon in the warm corner of the jar nearest the candle I keep burning in the kitchen.

The other day, I saw a flutter in my peripheral vision. Barry had emerged as a lovely orange-ish Isabella Tiger Moth. He stayed inside for 24-hours to wait out a cold, rainy day, then we released him into the backyard.

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Trevor had a friend over the other day after school. I said to them, "It's too bad it's raining or you two could play outside," and before I knew it, coats were on and they were out the door.



I had to at least make sure that we didn't send the young lady home soaking wet, so I convinced them both to take an umbrella outside. You'll notice in the photo that neither umbrella is in a position to protect anyone from the rain. Hey, I tried.

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Trevor's Easter present was a white chef's toque embroidered in red script with the name of his restaurant, The Treasured Cheese. He was thrilled and surprised. He wore it to make a menu of sauteed baby carrots, garlic chicken and chocolate-dipped oranges. He looks just a teensy bit pleased, don't you think?

All in all, the hat was a reasonably-priced gift that didn't conflict with my sense of holiday propriety. I saw a newscaster last week interviewing teens saying things like, "If I don't get electronics in my Easter basket, I'll be pretty pissed." The reporter went on to say that items like iPods and DVD players are now the norm for Easter gifts -- which I think is misleading... if not just plain wrong.

I can't believe that most parents give expensive electronics in baskets. I can imagine that a few do. And for every teen who is going to huff and pout over the lack of iPhone in her basket, there are nine more who are tickled by a homemade chocolate lollipop and a book.

The media telling us that expensive electronics are the norm is what will eventually make it acceptable. And while I don't generally concern myself with what other families do, I think it heads down a dangerous road to encourage kids to expect a gift worth a week's wages in an Easter basket.

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Saturday is errand day. Each week, we make the trek into Burlington or St. Albans and spend the day filling up on gas, restocking groceries, getting haircuts, eating lunch at a restaurant, grabbing tools or materials for house projects, buying clothes or shoes, going to the movies... pretty much anything that requires you to be near civilization.

It's a long day, so we tend to stick something fun in the middle, like a trip to ECHO, or a movie. This week, we saw The Spiderwick Chronicles. I'm hoping that the next errand day will have a trip to a sugaring farm in it -- it's the 7th Annual Maple Open House Weekend. Mmmm, syrup!



Trevor climbed every snow & gravel mountain in the Shaw's parking lot post-haircut, post-movie, pre-groceries. This pile was over 20-feet high and made me a little nervous. A random male shopper, celebrating the feat of scrambling up this slippery thing, yelled out to Trevor, "King of the hill!" I bet he wanted to climb up there too.

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Mom: Trevor, where are you?
Trevor: I'm in the living room.
Mom: Are you working on your math?
Trevor: No. I'm working on my relationship with Norrin.

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Last week, we woke up to a day of no school and a thick layer of ice coating trees, power lines, cars and rooftops. After checking that the sump pump runoff pipe was unstuck, we crunched around for a while and examined the effects. No damage, and it was warm enough that most of the ice was dropping off the trees as we watched.



I used the tractor to plow the driveway while Trevor shoveled the walkway and front porch. It was the kind of slush that turns into a solid sheet of ice once the temperature drops, so we had to get it up quickly. During the last "wintry mix," I left the slush and we had two inches of ice beneath our snowfall for weeks. Walking to the end of the driveway to meet the school bus was an Olympic sport.



It rained for a while, and then the mercury started to fall. Boots and snowshoes don't help much on ice. I think we'll need some snow & ice cleats for next year. That said, I still try to get the mail every day in my worn-out, tractionless Crocs and I slide halfway there. Trevor's nod to the upcoming spring was his attempt to play with water balloons outside. To Vermonters, 34-degrees is apparently outside water play weather.



I am particularly glad that even on a long snow day Trevor didn't turn on (or ask to turn on) the television. On the flip side, he did tie one cat to each end of a long ribbon from my craft stash and giggled as they pulled each other around the house. I don't think the cats were quite as amused. Where's that remote again?

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Dave and Trevor had a full week of sightseeing in DC while I was working.



Apparently, you only have to bring them up 490 feet in the air before they stop tormenting each other.

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I found a new restaurant on the island called The Treasured Cheese. You might not have noticed it on your drive along Main Street. Their signage is quite small... and taped to my kitchen wall.



As you can see, an ID is required for a "1st class luxury dinner." The menu for said dinner changes nightly. On Thursday it included an artichoke dip appetizer, egg noodles with tomato sauce, baked potato wedges, and caramelized bananas for dessert. On Saturday it was baked brie on bread, chicken cordon bleu, and butterscotch pudding.

The dining area is open to the kitchen, so customers are invited to not only watch the chef, but to interact with him and -- in some cases -- take heavy things out of the oven and offer cooking directions. But the chef is very serious about his work. If you start to take over the cooking, he'll shoo you back to the candlelit table.

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We woke up yesterday to six inches of snow and a two-hour school delay. You can't let that much snow go to waste! Our land is flat-cleared farmland, so not much chance of sledding. We made sugar-on-snow instead... just like they did in the Little House books.

We boiled the maple syrup, using a candy thermometer to ensure we got it to 235-degrees.



He looks bored, but he's actually concentrating.



We poured the boiling syrup immediately onto cold, packed snow. Clean snow only, please!



It comes off chewy... like taffy... and oh so mapley sweet.

In other snow-related news, all the white stuff fell on a day when Dave is traveling, so I got to take a crack at using the tractor plow to clear the driveway. It was much faster than shoveling, but not without pitfalls: tractors that mysteriously won't start, icy ruts that trap tires, and snow so high that the plow won't budge.

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