Major Milestone

Child One learned how to ride a bike today. We had tried last year and she and I had had some epic battles on the local playground. I think that neither of us was ready. We put the training wheels back on her bike and she puttered around the neighborhood all summer and fall, perfectly content. Perfectly content that is until she realized, in early fall, that she could not keep up with the other kids who had all learned to ride two wheelers that spring and summer.

This winter we've been talking about getting out and learning so she could buzz around this spring and afterward. Today was a beautiful day, crystal clear but blustery and cold and we headed to the playground to give it a try. Within 20 minutes of trying, and one break to goof around on the jungle gym and swings she'd mastered it. The whole family was there and it was a great moment. She was beaming and proud and a bit amazed that she'd figured it out. I was totally psyched for her, and little bit for me -- I'd completed one of the mandatory tasks of fatherhood and taught a child to ride a bike.

It was interesting to watch her buzz around and see how far and fast she could get away from me. Learning to ride a bike is a major milestone, truly one of the instances when you realize as a parent, in a very concrete way, that your children are free in the world and will explore much of it without you. We teach them to explore this world. We teach them to ride a bike. We give them the tools they need to go out on their own. Amazing.

Hawk In The Bed

If you were hoping for a naughty post, forget about it.

I was sting in my living room this morning reading the paper and drinking some coffee when something flashed outside the window, just in my peripheral vision. It was large and brown and for a moment I thought it might be a large bird, possibly a raptor, but tossed that though out -- why would a large bird be in my front bed? A few minutes went by and I was goo-gooing and ga-gaing with Child Three when I heard this funny, high pitched noise, outside the house, in the front bed.

I looked out the window, and saw a hawk, sitting amongst the rhododendrons, with its wings somewhat down and out. I ran upstairs to get the other kids and Mrs. Agricola and managed to show Child One the hawk before he took off across the street. I have no idea what he was doing in the bed. The wings down and out were definitely some sort of display, but he was all alone. Whatever it was it was cool, and I've seen this hawk before, or at least the same kind (I'm having trouble identifying it), so it is definitely a neighbor. I hope to see it again soon.

The Contraption

This evening, my kids built The Contraption. Comprised of paper towel tubes, a broken down tea bag box and an industrial thread spool (I have no idea where that came from!). They ran a little soccer ball eraser through it and had tons of fun.

Why we buy toys for the kids I'm not sure, because left to their own devices they come up with incredible things like The Contraption and it entertains them for hours. The Contraption is still set up in their room, and they will be playing with it come 6 AM. Now this post is not completely about The Contraption, though it does provide entree to talk about a post I read on Catskill Cottage Seed about intuition. Written by my Twitter-friend Richard Reeve it asked the following question:

The question this raises for me: does our education system beat out of us our ability to play? “Stop the day dreaming and do your workbook!” Perhaps it’s wrong to think that daydreaming is nothing but an escape. It’s a disservice to our capability to squash one of the four psychological functions.

I commented there, and believe this, because I see it in my town and neighborhood that the beating begins before kids hit the schools. Kids are running to this class and that class then to this play-date to that one then to this party and then to that party. They have zero unstructured time. Perhaps it's our lack of parenting chops, but our kids, while in some classes, sometimes, have lots of time to play in the mud and muck around in the backyard hunting for rocks and sticks, build forts, play in the sandbox and build The Contraption in their room. We let them be kids. We let them play. We let them explore. We try to stay out of their hair (this a two way street, to be honest). It's a joy to watch and I think they'll be better served in the long run.

Traveling With Kids

Last weekend Mrs. Agricola and I packed up the family and schlepped to Logan International Airport to fly to Houston to visit my brother and his family for the Christening of his youngest daughter. Three kids all 5 and under, on a 4.5 hour flight can be a bit daunting, I must confess, and we approach flying with some trepidation. That said, we do fly fairly regularly for a family. My oldest, Child One, has been on many a flight with multiple trips to Chicago, Tampa/St. Pete and now a pair of flights into Bush International. Her brother, Child Two, has been twice to each of these places as well (if my counting is correct).

DVDs on the Mac Book help to pass the time and keep little people occupied. I'd never get a DVD player in my car (like the trip to Cape Cod requires video-sedation . . . ) but on a four-plus-hour flight, it's a Godsend. The thing that helped me more than anything else, however, was seeing the utter joy and excitement that my little ones (at least the mobile and speaking C1 & C2) demonstrated when they saw planes on the tarmac outside of the terminal.

At that moment they knew were in for something cool: flying in a big jet, way up high in the sky to go see their cool aunt, uncle and cousins. The wonder of it all pumped them and me up. I remember being a kid and being so excited to get on a plane. Those days are long gone, but having kids of my own helps me to recapture some of that wonder and remove some of the drudgery that is modern air travel.

Death With Your Cornflakes

My little ones saw this morning's Globe front page and asked why the girl was wrapped up. I said that she was dead. "How did she die?" "From a bomb." "What's a bomb?" "A thing that explodes." "What comes from the bomb?" "Metal." I've got to be more careful with the paper. This is the second time in the past 4 months or so that there have been dead children on the front page of the Globe. I support the right of papers to print what they want, but it's tricky when you have to explain to children about dead children -- particularly when they die in a conflict the roots of which confuse most adults.

On a political note, why do the American papers never publish pictures of dead Israeli children above the fold?

The Tradition Continues

The decorated version of this year's gingerbread house. Mainly decorated by the kids with minimal parental oversight. Last year's, pre-decoration.

First Haircut

I took Child 2 for his first haircut, ever, today. I have to admit that I was a bit sad to do it, but he needed it cut. He looked like a kid who'd been raised by wolves and been living in the wilderness for his first three years. It was fun, but it was time. He cleans up very well. He endured with minimal fussing and zero tears. It really feels as if he's moved into the realm of big boys now.

I don't like to put pics of my kids on the web, you'll just to trust me.

Too Spicy

I made dinner the other night and forgot my audience. I grilled some salt and pepper crusted chicken that was a bit too peppery for Child 1 & 2. Child 2 frequently says that things are "too spicy." This can be anything from salt-and-pepper-crusted-grilled chicken, to certain NECCO wafers. He stated, as I peeled the nicely cooked crusty outer layer of the chicken off of the pieces on his plate, that "we're kids. We don't like pepper."

Point taken.

Disaster Redux

In 2006 our tree fell within hours of being decorated. This year, the tree fell two days later. It happened just before heading off to school with the kids. I was upstairs helping C2 get dressed when he heard a whoosh and a smash. We lost a bunch of our nicest and prettiest ornaments -- the danger of hanging near the top -- as well as the tree topper that Mrs. Agricola and I bought just after we got married. It's such a drag when this happens because then you need to un-decorate and un-light the tree and start all over. I also invested $50 (that I really didn't want to do this year) in a tree stand that will hopefully keep our tree upright for the remainder of the season.

If a crashing tree and shattering ornament aren't bad enough, poor C1 thought that the tree had fallen as the result of a little, but heavy ornament that she had just gotten. She was weeping and saying "it was the ornament's fault . . . it was too heavy . . . " "No, the tree fell because it's a bit heavy to one side," we told her. She's so sweet and tenderhearted.

Tree Trimming

We decorated the family tree this weekend and it was quite fun. Typically we light the thing in the evening and Mrs. Agricola and I end up trimming it after the kids go to bed. This year we switched things around and decorated it in the morning. The kids had a blast taking ornaments out of the box (that might have been more fun than actually hanging them) and hanging them on the tree. Child One looked and thought about each ornament, and considered to whom it belonged, and "Could this reindeer be me and this one be Child Two and this one be Child Three . . . " Child Two hung ornaments in clusters and Child Three just looked -- it's what you do when you're 10 weeks old. Pater & Mater Agricolae joined in the festivities and it was an excellent couple of hours.

After the fun ornaments were on I spent some time filling in holes with small shiny balls. These are the workhorses of tree decorating in my book. I hang them in the gaps, and try and set them back from the outside of the tree so that they sit inside of the branches and shine out. Their reflective surfaces lend brilliance to the tree and help to intensify the lights. In a post-tinsel and post-garland age the small, cheap, shiny ball is what makes the tree. While sitting in front of the tree this evening Mrs. A commented that the tree is really shining and shimmering this year -- and it is.

Child Three

Child 3 a boy born 10-4 606 am 8Lbs 4oz 20ins mom & baby r fine!

(sent from my mobile, in the hospital)

Demolition Derby

Sunday was a lazy day around the Quarter Acre. We spent the day lounging on the porch, and I smoked some ribs and a pork butt (along with a couple of cans of baked beans and two hot dogs -- which were really delicious). Child Two went down the street for a play date with some friends and I hung around, drank a beer and chewed the fat before returning to the smoker to add coals.

I returned to the neighbors' house with some ribs and beers and enticed them and their four kids to come down for dinner. We ate the smoked meat, drank some PBRs and had some blueberry pie and vanilla ice cream for dessert -- a great summer meal and my best smoked meats yet. After dinner the six kids, ranging in age from 2 to 8 years old went out to the yard and ran around. The two two year olds started playing a game where they pretended that they were race cars.

They would stand on the hill, at the edge of the lawn, stick their arms out and then start running after saying "ready, set, go . . . " Within a few minutes the older kids (a pair of nearly-5-year-olds, a 6 year old and an 8 year old) joined in. They'd all line up, stick out their arms, say ready set go and then run pell-mell all over the back yard. Eventually, they started crashing into each other, and knocking each other over. There were some hits-from-behind, but by and large the contact was clean and hard. It was very funny to watch and referee and and the two year olds were so proud that they'd invented a game of such fun.

Team Spirit

Mrs. Agricola recently bought the kids some Red Sox gear. Child One got a pink Pedroia shirt and Child Two got a blue Matsuzaka shirt. Each got a hat, one pink, one blue for C1 and C2 respectively. To state the obvious, they are very cute when decked out in their shirts. C1 now claims her favorite player is Pedroia and C2 says he wants to wear his "Mazooka" shirt.

What's interesting to me about this is that with these little purchases my kids have embarked on an affiliation with a team. That the team is the same team that I follow, my father follows, my grandfathers followed, and my great-grandfather followed is very cool. There is no guarantee that my kids are embarking on a life of Red Sox-fandom but it's interesting to be a father and see the seeds of this planted. It starts with a shirt and a hat.

Fast Tracks

Last Wednesday night a healthy dusting of light fluffy snow fell on the Quarter Acre. In the morning there were quite a few animal tracks in the yard and Child One and I followed some cat, rabbit (C1 identified them before I did) and crow tracks before heading off to school. The cat and rabbit tracks went from the back yard to the front, and the crow's tracks were especially entertaining and loopy on the sidewalk. In the afternoon I took both Child One and Child Two into the yard to follow the rabbit and cat tracks some more. We also saw the tracks of a frenetic small bird on our patio.

My interest in tracks was piqued when I found some coyote prints in the back yard the week prior. Though I didn't show them to my kids I made a mental note to bring them out and look for tracks after a snow. Mother Nature obliged and so did our wild and semi-domesticated neighbors. Both kids got a big kick out of our investigation and it was a fun way to kill some time on a cold winter day.

Year End

Another year wraps up in less than 8 hours. It's hard to believe really, but here we are. I don't normally get too into the whole New Year thing and this year is no exception. I'm going to spend the night with Child One & Two and Mrs. Agricola -- eating some hors d'oeuvre tippling a few drinks and then bed. It won't be too raucous but it's going to be a perfect night for me -- spent with family on the Quarter Acre.

Happy New Year to my couple of readers, and to anybody else stumbling across my ramblings.

December-180

This December has been the absolute opposite of last December. Last year the temperature through December was in the 50s with some days in the 60s. I actually mowed my lawn in mid-December because it needed it and had continued to grow.

This year I mowed the lawn in early December just because I got a bit psychotic about the leaves that were blowing onto it from the hill at the back of the Quarter Acre. An injured ankle kept me off the hill and prevented raking which lead to blowing leaves and the aforementioned psychosis. The temp that day was about 30 F and it started to snow as I put the mower in its shed.

It only snowed a dusting that day but last week we got two heavy winter blasts. The first came on 13 December -- a ten inch deposit of snow that absolutely crippled the region and left me in my car, stuck on 128/I-95 for seven hours. I never made it home, opting, instead, to stay at my parents' house rather than extend my 53 mile commute into an 11 hour ordeal. I'd never seen anything like that evening's commute and I've driven to Buffalo in less time than it took me cover those 35 miles between work and my folks' house.

Two days after that we got a funky Nor'easter that dropped a decent amount of snow before turning to rain. It made for some miserable and soaked shoveling but it's real, New England, winter weather. The front yard of the Quarter Acre now looks like a World War One trench system with the front walk shoveled out, a path around to the side door, the drive way and sidewalks cleared and a trench dug that permits the spotlight that I put on the front door each Christmas to actually light the door.

I've long been a fan of the pristine snow cover but this December has changed me. I love the paths and boot prints and the sled marks in the yard -- a real winter camp/adventure feeling is permeating the Quarter Acre. I'm not quite sure where to put any snow from any future storms, but I'll cross that bridge when I come to it.

Unless some crazy tropical air mass surges in from the south this Christmas should be a white Christmas, the first that I can remember in years.

Great Eastern

Big Project

Last month (8 - 12 October) Mrs. Agricola and I built a patio in the back of the Quarter Acre. We purchased our materials, staked out and squared the site on 6 October, barely touched it the following day due to a social commitment and then began excavating in earnest on Monday the eighth. We moved much dirt that first day and sifted a large amount of it in order to have good loam to use for back filling and other, future projects. The second day, Tuesday, of the project saw us moving more dirt and feeling some doubt as to our sanity for undertaking this big project. Sand and gravel were delivered on this day as well.

The paving stones were delivered Wednesday, Day 3, and dropped at the edge of the work site. By the late morning we had finished our excavations and started the leveling and sloping process. This, by far was the most tedious part of the job. Once we had the sub surface smooth and sloped we began building up a 2 inch gravel base on which we continued to check the grade before we compacted it and applied a second 2 inch gravel layer that we also compacted.



Thursday morning, Day 4, we started laying sand and placing bricks following a pattern that Mrs. Agricola applied to a nicely done scale drawing of the site. Mrs. A actually did much of the stone-laying, and played a pivotal role in this project -- without her help I alone never would have been able to finish this project in one week. The stones were in place by Thursday afternoon, and only finishing touches remained.

Friday, we finished up by cutting some stones to fit in the layout and sliced up others to close a small gap around our steps. I may be proudest of this aspect of the job because the gap was small -- due to Mrs. A's precise design and excellent placement. The slices I made and placed in the gap make the patio look very finished.



Aside from the sheer physicality of the project (which I loved, seeing as how I'm an office worker who longs to work with my hands) some other challenges were the weather -- all week it rained, or threatened to rain and we had to battle the elements.



In-ground sprinkler pipes are also tricky when one does not mark them well. I gouged one pipe with a shovel, but had it patched up in about an hour -- including a run to the hardware store for parts. As I was securing the the edging brace that surrounds the entire structure and helps to hold it all together I spiked the same hose (see above for marking hoses well). That was a brutal thing to fix because I spiked it very close to the edge of the patio and had to dig up a chunk of lawn in order to reach it and have any room in which to work. . . I skinned my knuckles so badly working to cut the pipe that there was blood in the water at the bottom of the hole I'd excavated to do the work on the pipes. Another challenge was that while laying the stones it was raining. Our gloves were quickly soaked and useless for carrying the stones. Going glove-less exposed our fingers to sandy bricks. The grit really cut up fingertips and left behind some nice callouses -- after a painful week of healing.

That said, this was an awesome project. I used four vacation days to complete it. I got to be around my wife and kids nearly around the clock. Despite the messy weather my kids played outside nearly all day every day. We have a nice patio that will permit better use of the space behind our house and reduce the amount of muck dragged into the house from the yard -- which in this area was always damp because it's on the north side of the house and quite shady. I honestly think I missed my calling in life -- masonry seems very appealing to me right now -- and am glad that I did this project, it was an amazing experience. I got to use shovels, wheel barrows, a plate compactor, sledge hammers, stone cutters, grub hoes . . . fun!

We'd been talking about this project for a while and we finally did it. Both Mrs. A and I had a huge sense of accomplishment from conceiving, executing and completing this project and are a better team for having done it together. This type of thing is one of the reasons we moved to the 'burbs and we can't wait for the next big project.



Patio Specs
The patio is 22 feet long and ranges in depth from 4 feet at the narrowest part to 8.5 feet at the widest with a large section of it at one end being 7.5 feet wide. The depth of the bed at the edge closest to the house is 5 inches below grade. The depth of the bed on the edge furthest from the house is 7 inches below grade -- the slope is about 1/4 inch/foot. The patio conforms to the contour of the land and has a similar slope along its length. At the high edge of the patio the stones are about 1.5 inches above grade and at the low end of the grade they are flush with the lawn. We used concrete paver stones from Ideal -- a local manufacturer. We spread 2 yards of gravel into the hole and about 3/4 of a yard of sand as the stone bed. Material came from a locally based supplier of such stuff. The total cost of the project, including material, rental equipment and some new tools was about $1,600.00 -- I don't think a contractor would have done it for less than $3,000.00.

Hawk vs. Crows

We were heading out tonight for a little family dinner to kick off the holiday weekend. As I was putting Child One into her seat I noticed three crows in the large tree in our neighbor's front yard. I said "look at the crows" and she didn't say anything. I asked if she saw them and she said "yeah." She was really engrossed by what she was seeing. Another crow flew into the tree, and then another pair. She asked me what the last bird on the wire was, and I said "probably another crow." "No," she said. "Come see."

Now, I bailed early from work today and came home and started to get the Quarter Acre in shape -- the lawn and beds are a disaster. Our cars were parked in the street and I had backed them into the drive way. Child One's booster is on the passenger side, and when we pull into the driveway head first her seat is usually on the opposite of where it was tonight. If we had not been backed in we might have missed this entire series of events.

Anyway . . . some branches in the tree in which the six Corvi now sat blocked my view of their original perch -- which was the utility wires that run up the street. So, at child one's request I changed my vantage point to see the bird she was asking me about. It was, what I believe to be, a good sized Harris Hawk. It had been sitting amongst the crows. I called Mrs. Agricola over to see and she grabbed Child Two. The hawk sat on the wire for a moment and then flew into the tree, a little distance from the crows. The crows were agitated, and giving off occasional warning calls -- a throaty, very clattering "cawwwwwwww cawwwwww."

The hawk went into action and chased one of the crows out of the tree. It was a cool sight because the hawk seemed to be about the same size as the crows (these crows are huge and the Harris is not as large as a Red Tail -- one of which we saw just before dinner, this one also spotted by Child One, the little hawk-finder). It flapped powerfully after the crow -- which was taking evasive action -- and took a swipe at its back. They flew away and I thought it was over. My neighbor had come out to watch because her dog was going crazy, and a neighbor down the street was out with binoculars because her dog must have been reacting to the events too.

As the hawk chased the first crow the other crows flew out of the tree in the direction of their chased comrade. A handful of the crows and the hawk returned to the tree very quickly (upon the return of the birds I ran in and grabbed my camera).


The hawk is just about in the center of this shot, diagonally down, and to the right of the lowest, right-most crow. Click to see the full size shot.

They sat there for a bit and then the hawk chased the crows down the street, again strafing one of the black birds along the back. I don't think the hawk actually made contact, but it must have scared the crow -- it was exciting to watch. I've seen crows and jays chase hawks, often in tandem, but I've never seen a hawk chase a crow. Nor have I ever seen them sitting so close to one another. This Harris Hawk is most likely the same one that I've seen around the Quarter Acre -- though I've only heard it this summer and not seen it since the spring.



I've had some other cool raptor sightings this summer, about which I'll blog after Labor Day. This encounter, however, was, by far, the coolest, and most interesting.

Children's Hospital Boston

Yesterday, we took Child One into Children's Hospital for an open challenge to determine whether or not she is still allergic to peanuts. She had a reaction a couple of years ago, and since then has blood tests and skin tests that were inconclusive, hence the challenge. What happens is this: we sat in a room and she ate 1/4 cup of peanuts starting with half a peanut, then a full peanut and ending with basically the full quarter cup -- all within a couple of hours. There was a slight chance that she could have gone into anaphylactic shock but there was a greater chance -- given the blood and skin tests -- that nothing would happen. Nothing did happen, thankfully, and the trip into the hospital was very perspective changing for me.

We got good news -- a potentially serious allergy seems to be in abatement. Our child is healthy (knock wood). There were many kids, that I saw, in the lobby, who are not so lucky. They and their parents didn't get good news, at some point in their visit to this place, or someplace like it. While not all were in a horrible way there were many who were visibly not well and suffering with serious ailments. The extraordinary folks at Children's were working to cure them, so they were in the right place. My problems are minor compared to what those kids and their families are going through. I'm damned fortunate. I've had a few miserable days at work -- today is another -- but thinking back to my stroll through the lobby helps keep everything in perspective. I've got a gig, I've got healthy kids (more wood knocking). I count my blessings and say a prayer for the kids and their families that I bumped into in the lobby.