Remember in Little House on the Prairie when Laura and Mary open their stockings on Christmas morning?

They get a single peppermint and a pair of red mittens. And they are over the moon with joy.

The first time I read that all that I could think was, "If my kids got a peppermint and red mittens for Christmas they would be crushed." Yet the further along in my parenting journey I travel, the more I realize how little it takes to bring joy and magic into my children's lives. No, I'm not talking about single peppermint simplicity, but still reigning it in considerably from what is normal in our society.

When Sage and Lupine were small I made and gave much more than I do today.

But I noticed along the way that few things hold meaning for long, and the less "stuff" I gave them more they appreciated, treasured, and loved what they had. 

So for the past few years we've kept our Spring baskets (along with all other celebrations) very simple.

And indeed, my kids have enjoyed our holidays more – not less – than they did before.

What follows are a few ideas I think you will enjoy if you're on a path toward more simplicity as well, yet worry that a simple celebration might fall flat with your children.

Five tips for a joyful, simple spring celebration

1. Less is more

You don't have to go overboard to have a wonderful holiday! Excess is overwhelming to children and adults alike. Cut back a little (or cut back a lot!) and see how it goes. 

The photo below was from the first year I simplified spring baskets. The two of them received the items pictured above plus a few treats like dried fruit and organic jelly beans (so half of what is shown this per child).

Since then I've cut back even more. But the first year we simplified a candle, a crystal, a packet of seeds, and a small homemade toy was downright thrilling for my children.

You'll be surprised at how little it takes to bring joy.

2. Choose consumables 

Consumables are anything that will be used up in a reasonable amount of time, leaving little or no clutter or waste behind. Some of our favorites include:

• packets of herbal tea
• healthy gum or mints
• seed packets for the garden
• lip balm
• a candle

3. Healthy treats are just as fun!

Your baskets need not be stuffed with food coloring and corn syrup! Having a child with food sensitivities helped us find some great alternatives that benefit us all. Here are a few of our favorites.

• Healthier gummy bunnies or jelly beans (we buy them at our coop but more mainstream stores carry some, too, like Annie's brand).
• Dried fruit
• Trail mix
• homemade date balls or purchased Lara Bars
• Nuts or seeds
• Single serving coconut water or almond milk 

4. Give experiences

And if something non-consumable feels like a must, how about giving a thing that is really an experience in disguise? 

• A notebook or journal and pencil or pen
• Garden supplies – trowel, pots, and gloves
• Bird feeder and birdseed and a field guide to local birds
• Seasonal toy with a long useful life (think wooden boat, kite, sidewalk chalk)
• Craft supplies (fabric, embroidery floss and hoop; sketchbook and paints or pencils, etc.)
• Nature exploration kit (compass, bug box, magnifying glass, water bottle)
• Silk dying supplies (white silks and a few packets of Kool-Aid) I share a how-to here.

5. Add a new tradition

If you are worried that less getting might equal less joy, add a new tradition to your spring celebration. 

I described our spring traditions in this post years ago, and share with you our egg hunt custom and our beloved Wish Bunny (shown below). Find a tradition that fits your family's beliefs, personalities, and likes. Perhaps you'll add a special kitchen or craft project, a fancy meal, or an outdoor adventure with friends.

Less really is more when it comes to celebrations. Cut back slowly, and then enjoy as you watch simple magic unfold for your family.

 

Love,
Rachel

 

When Sage was small I thrifted a big bag of plastic easter eggs. I was happy to have something to hide treats in during our spring celebration (and happy to have not purchased them new) but always felt a slight disconnect when I pulled them out each year. They were a little hiccup in our sweet, natural holiday – a bright plastic spot in our woolen and wooden and otherwise earthy spring baskets.

Five springs later I started wondering: could I make a natural replacement for plastic eggs? They would need to be outdoor-friendly and made to contain a tiny treat. I thought about these for weeks last spring until I had an aha! moment and realized how to make them.

Felt Easter Eggs are quick, cute, and infinately reusable. As a bonus the wool felt will stick to tree trunks so you can hide your treats in some unconventional locations! (Cudos to my sister, Titi for this brilliant discovery.) And if you sew with cotton thread and use 100% wool felt any you miss will biodegrade. What more can you ask for?

Felt Easter Egg Tutorial

Materials:

• Small scraps of wool felt
• Contrasting thread
• Hand sewing needle or sewing machine
• Buttons, gems, or other embellishments (optional)

Step 1: Cut out two egg shapes for each woolen egg. Mine are just larger than a chicken egg, approximately 2 1/2" x 3". Cut with a pinking shears or straight shears. The choice is yours. Trim the egg you would like on top to be 1/8" smaller than the bottom egg.

Step 2: Cut an opening 1/3 of the way down from the point of the egg. (Cut the top egg only.) I love the look of a "cracked egg" with a zig-zagging line, but a round hole, an "H" shape, or curvy line works as well. (Do not cut simply a straight line as it can be difficult to get a treat inside without tearing the felt.)

Step 3: Choose yoru embellishments. Mine are wool but we love buttons and any thing sparkly. Especially the sparkly.

Step 4: Set aside the bottom egg. Sew embellishments to the top egg by hand or machine. (My blue flower hides a curvey opening in the yellow egg.)

Step 5: Carefully place the top egg over the bottom egg. Using a contrasting thread, zig-zag or decorative stitch the entire perimiter. Backstitch at the end of your seam.

Your egg is done! You can easily make enough for a backyard egg hunt in an evening. With practice mine took less than five mintues each.

Last spring we kept our felt eggs a secret until our egg hunt was on and the kids were amazed at the woolen eggs that they found. Gentle spring magic, indeed. 

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

For more spring celebration inspiration, have a peek here!

Handmade paper-mâché easter egg tutorial  

Ideas for simple, natural gifts for your spring baskets

and this – for those of you who include a magical element in your celebrations – on Answering the Question. 

Love,
Rachel

 

Originally published in 2011.

Full disclosure: I'm not a Valentine's Day person.

Not at all.

I can – and do – get all worked up for holiday magic a couple of times a year for Winter Solstice and Spring Equinox, but that's all I've got, really.

Don't get me wrong. I adore magic and celebration and special family traditions. But I don't get all Pinterest-crazed and out of hand for minor holidays. I have enough on my parenting plate without it.

But Lupine loves Valentine's day.

And while for me February 14 happens exactly eighteen seconds after New Year's and Christmas, she thinks about it all year long. And every year Lupine reminds me of the special things we have done in years past that she wants to be sure I remember.

She reminds me that:

• Each Valentine's day I give her and Sage each a mama-made Valentine. (Sometimes they are paper, sometimes a painted peg doll or wooden heart of something made of wool felt.)
• When they wake up the table is set all fancy-like, with the pretty yellow dishes and a tablecloth and hopefully some flowers.
• And the two small thrift store Valentine glasses are filled with pink steamers. (Don't forget the steamers, mama!)

Oh, my little Valentine.

But this year that wasn't all.

She wanted more Valentine magic to happen! (Much of it inspired by some very sweet Martin and Sylvia Valentine stories she's been loving this season). She wanted to give out Valentines to her friends. (A new concept for this homeschooling family!) She wanted to make a Valentine's day bunting out of paper hearts to hang across the kitchen doorway. She wanted to deliver secret Valentines to the neighbors up and down our road, hanging little heart baskets on their door knobs, preferably with chocolates tucked inside. Oh, and she wanted to make gluten-free vegan heart shaped pop tarts for a treat.

I was more overwhelmed by the second.

Did I mention that I'm not so into Valentine's Day?  Yeah. And now it was snowballing.

 

But then something wonderful happened.

I told her that I couldn't do it all.

That if she needed this very special, very sparkly Valentine's day she needed to tie on her apron and get to work. This was her day, and she needed to step up and make it special on her own.

I agreed to do the basics (the traditions we've always enjoyed together) like make them each a Valentine and set the table and make the steamers, but that was it. The rest was on her.

Pete and I helped out as needed but let the bulk of the decorating, baking, and gift-giving fell to her.

She worked all week long, cutting paper hearts, weaving paper baskets, and writing Valentines. She made a grocery list for supplies she needed for treats, and set to work days in advance assembling ingredients for her dessert.

And watching her work I realized the power in this lesson. The power of wanting something so much and making it happen yourself, rather than waiting for someone else to meet your needs.

Self-love. Self-reliance. Determination.

I think as adults we often find ourselves disappointed when our partner or our friends can't fill our needs. And as we grow into ourselves in adulthood we learn (hopefully) along the way that if there is something we need or want we must lovingly ask for it or give it to ourselves.

And she's learning this already – at age nine.

And perhaps what it boils down to is this: as parents we want to do enough, give enough, be enough.

We want to provide our children with a magical, memorable, near-"perfect" childhood. We want so desperately to get this right and so we worry and question and compare.

And one way or another, most of us think we fall short.

But thinking that as parents we will carry all of the magic into childhood is misguided. That's not your job nor is it mine.

Let me say that again: you don't need to do it all or be it all or spin all the magic for your children.

Our work, instead, is to give what we can and then cheer our child on as they find a way to meet their own needs and create their own joy.

And so she did.

She measured and mixed and cut and baked. She made the most delicious, most beautiful Valentine treats I have ever seen. Indeed, she made a most magical day.

She did that. All on her own.

And at the end of the day the depth of joy and pleasure that came from this celebration emerged from the satisfaction of not being handed this magic, but of having created it herself.

She found her power and watched her skills unfold.

 

And that's a new tradition that I'm willing to pour myself into with gusto. 

 

 

Happy Solstice, dear ones!

We spent yesterday celebrating and playing, sharing small lovingly-made gifts, and relishing the longest night of the year. Today we welcome the return of the light and the return of a strengthening sun. From here the days slowly grow longer once more and darkness begins it's retreat.

Wishing you and your families a season of growth, love, and transformation, however you celebrate this season and whatever you hold dear to your heart.

Happy holidays, friends!

Love,
Rachel

 

Today might just be my favorite day of the year.

The day-into-night-into-day when we celebrate the Winter Solstice.

My kids are trying so hard to sleep in – in hopes that they can stay up very, very late tonight. (One is hoping for midnight, the other for all night. Ahem.)

And the four of us will celebrate the season the way we have since our children were small. (Although one thing is quite different, in that I no longer fret about how we will fill such a long day of celebrating! After thirteen years I know well that even staying up long after bedtime there will be no shortage of things to do – together.)

And so we will spend today doing whatever inspires us as we celebrate the return of the light. We'll dip or roll a few candles, make some orange and clove pomanders, decorate gingerbread houses and make some bird feeders. We'll exchange a few lovingly made gifts and nibble on some special treats around our little tree. The evening will bring us out to the woods for a hike after dark and a campfire beneath the trees and stars late into the night. And when we come back we might even climb into the hot tub and warm ourselves as we listen to the owls and coyotes conversing in the woods.

And we'll do it all by candlelight.

I can hardly wait.

I'm sending wishes to each of you for a joyful holiday season, whatever that means for your family.

Because, truly, we all have so much to celebrate.

 

Love and light,

Rachel

 

Our tree on December 15: a study in minimalism.

Let's all come clean. You just looked at the calendar, did some quick math, then freaked out. (It can't just be me.) Because seriously. December 16? What the?

I have my excuses, and you have yours. But all that aside, it's crunch time. For real. And as of this moment we have no cookies, no twinkle lights, no rustically wrapped gifts tucked under our rustic (and still not decorated) tree.

Hello.

So two nights ago I faced a choice: panic or make a plan.

I chose the latter. (Well, I chose both, but after trying them on I settled for the second option. It was a more comfortable fit.)

And my plan, it turns out, helped calm me down before I even baked a single cookie. My plan made it all manageable by deciding what mattered most and letting the rest go. Here's how:

1. There are currently 5 days before Solstice Night and 7 days before Christmas Eve.
2. There are 247 tasks that I would like to complete before that time, some of them epic like, oh, I don't know – cast on, knit, and cast off a man-sized sweater.
3. It's not all happenin'.

So to make sense of the madness I divided my pre-holiday tasks into categories. And from now until Solstice we'll do one thing from each category.

I have four categories, and I slashed my to-do list down to five items for each category.

Because no one needs 12 batches of cookies. No one.

Here's my list:

Decorating

• Lights and tinsel on the tree
• Lights on the house
• Decorate Solstice tree
• Set up Christmas Village
• Driveway lights and star on barn

Baking

• Solstice Spirals
• Gingerbread houses
• Coconut snowballs
• Ninjabread (Yes. Ninja.)
• Thumbprints

Gifts

• Food pantry donation
• Kids & Pete
• Mom, Dad, & Leah
• Friends
• Neighbors

Cleaning

• Bathrooms
• Living room
• Kitchen & Mudroom
• Bedrooms
• Hall & Stairs

And suddenly – just like that – my list went from dozens of things pressing down on me until I could scarcely breathe to just four tasks a day. I can manage four. Four a day? Done and done.

We gave this a test run yesterday, the kids and I. And I was a teensy bit discouraged only because I realized I wanted them to hit the ground running and crank out a wrapped gift and a squeaky clean, well decorated room that smelled of gingerbread before lunch time.

Which, um, didn't happen.

So think of this as your list. Not your sweetie's, not your kid's, but yours alone. Then dig in!

(My kids did get crackin' just after lunch time and worked like mad to finish a gift and get our tree tinseled and lit. Sage suggests that if you do involve your children you give them an easing in period. Good call, kid.)

Because honestly. What really needs doing before Christmas? Very little, my friend. Very little. 

Because sure, you and I may celebrate differently this season. But all religion and customs aside the holiday spirit has little to do with a sparkling toilet or 32 gifts beneath the tree.

 

And you arriving at the holidays all relaxed and loving and go-with-the-flow?

It turns out that is the nicest gift of all.

 

Santa.

Saint Nick.

The Easter Bunny.

The Tooth Fairy.

Gnomes in the forest and fairies in the flower garden.

For those among you raising your little ones with a healthy dose of magic in their lives, this post is for you.

"Are you the one who fills our Easter baskets?"

The question surprised me, though I had been waiting for it for years.

Wondering when they would ask.

Are you Santa?

The Easter Bunny? And all of the rest?

 

The truth is, I was dreading that question.

The Question.

 

You see, I did not come easily to the idea of a magical childhood.

Precisely because I knew I would someday have to answer The Question.

When Sage was a baby magic felt like a lie. And I wouldn't lie to my kids.

No Santa. No Bunny. No magic.

I wanted to be honest with my children. Always. Completely. No exceptions.

 

But then, as a young mother, a friend convinced me that magic served a very important role in childhood.

That the very nature of childhood is magical, and that magic is where young children should dwell.

Magic sets the young imagination ablaze with possibility.

Magic creates comfort in an overwhelming world.

Magic makes adult concepts digestible to a young developing mind.

Magic makes the unseen possible.

 

And the more I sat with this idea during Sage's early days, the more I began to agree.

Magic stopped feeling like a lie, and more like, well, magic.

The decision was cautiously made.

We'd give it a try.

We would invite magic.

For better or for worse.

 

My reservations quickly faded as I saw awe in my child's eyes when something magical happened. 

Even fireflies became magical to him.

"Look mama! There are stars and fairies all over in the forest!"

Within a moment I knew that we had found a good fit for our family.

And in our home anyway, childhood became a magical experience.

 

There was magic everywhere!

Standard issue magic folk and playful new creations.

Santa. The Tooth Fairy. Saint Nick. The Easter Bunny.

Also the Rhyme Elves, leaving a poem during the night beside a child's bed.

The Pumpkin Fairy, transforming Halloween candy into a lovely new toy.

The Solstice Elves, delivering a gift for the children to share each Solstice Eve.

And okay, I'll even admit to the obscure Van (as in: mini van) Fairies, who would hide a thrift store book in your car seat on a long and trying road trip.

And so many others.

 

We were rich with fairy folk.

Magic unfolded around us.

And years passed.

And I waited.

For The Question.

 

Finally it came.

 

Are you the one who fills our Easter baskets?

 

It was said with curiosity but not anxiety. Simply. Plainly.

I took my child by the hand and we found a quiet place to sit and talk.

And with my arms wrapped around this growing spirit, this is what I said.

Since you were very small your life has been full of magic.

On holidays and everyday.

 

Elves, gnomes, and fairies.

Everywhere.

 

Inviting that magic into your life was a decision your papa and I made when you were very small.

Because we believed that a childhood full of magic could help you believe in things you could not see.

And as you get older believing in things you can not see can help you go anywhere you dream to go.

 

And yes, filling your Easter basket was a part of that.

Along with many other things.

We tried to make magic into something you could see and touch and believe in from the very start.

 

Because I believe that magic is real.

But it changes as you get older.

And instead of being the winged fairy folk or Easter bunny sort of magic it is a magic that is harder to see and touch than that.

    "Yeah," my child said. "Like the magic of the universe."

Yes. Like that.

 

I continued…

Your papa and I decided that we wanted you to have a magical childhood.

We thought it would help you believe in yourself when things seemed impossible.

We believed it would help you reach for things that others thought were unreachable.

 

And so just like Nanny and Bumpy did for me and their parents did for them, your papa and I have helped bring magic to life for you.

 

My child paused only for a moment, then smiled and said,

    "It's still magic. It's mama magic."

There was no sadness. No deceit. No disappointment.

Only joy, awe, and a new twist on what it meant to hold magic in our hands.

It all made perfect sense.

To both of us.

And it was time.

 

And then I passed the torch.

Because once you know this truth, you also become a magic keeper.

Your work is to help keep magic alive for other children who still believe.

 

And this – this! – was the best part of all.

To pick up the torch and become a part of the magic?

My child could hardly wait to get started.

 

Yes. It is still magic after all.

It's mama magic.

It's papa magic.

And now it is kid magic, too.

 

And kid magic I suspect is the most powerful magic of all.

They grew up believing. 

Who better to keep it alive?

 

My heart is full.

 

Originally published in 2013.

As we talk more about deeper meaning and less consumption, I kept circling back to this custom in my mind. The Gratitude Tree.

So I pulled this post from the archives for you in hopes that it inspires connection and meaning in your family celebration. The materials can be put together the night before and need not be fancy. Because simple, I'm finding, often feels better.

 

When I was a child I don't think I really "got" Thanksgiving.

Sure, we gathered around my grandparents table and used the fancy dishes. We said grace and ate a glorious meal.

But I didn't get it.

Not really.

I knew the story of the first Thanksgiving (the version we were told at school anyway), but the meaning was lost on me.

Because grace was just a prayer we said before meals.

It was a memorized and recited, not felt or understood.

I was glad to gather and eat my grandma's cooking, but that was as deep as my gratitude ran.

 

And then one year – as an adult – I got it.

I really got it.

I'm not sure when Thanksgiving clicked for me, but now I count it among my favorite of the year.

Because it's all about gratitude.

("Well, duh," you say. But truly. It didn't sink in until adulthood.)

It's counting blessings. Being thankful for the abundance that we possess.

It's about deeply feeling and noticing all that we have.

And as you might guess, I'm all about that.

And now I look forward to Thanksgiving like I once looked forward to Christmas.

 

Several years ago we started a Gratitude Tree tradition.

It quickly became our favorite Thanksgiving tradition, and one that really brought home the meaning of Thanksgiving for our kids. And come to think of it, for the adults as well.

The Gratitude Tree is a place to note all that you are thankful for.

A way to count your blessings and be mindful of all the richness in your life.

Quite simply it's a tree branch decorated with leaves upon which you've written what you're thankful for.

But it always seems like more than that.

So much more that my mom sometimes keeps the tree from the previous year on her dresser until the following autumn.

Because these blessings are worth remembering throughout the year.

Want to start your own Gratitude Tree tradition?

I thought so.

But keep it simple, won't you? We get so carried away trying to make our traditions picture-perfect to the end of losing our way and forgetting why we're doing it to begin with.

Don't let perfection stand in your way.

Materials

• One branch (or bundle of smaller branches) small enough to fit in your jar or vase
• Mason jar or sturdy vase
• Marbles or stones (optional) to stabilize vase
• Paper (colored paper or old water color paintings are nice but not necessary)
• Paper punch or something pokey to work a hole through your paper
• Yarn or string
• Scissors
• Pencils or pens

Process

Create your "tree"

Cut your branches.

My kids go out each year with clippers and select our branch. It isn't always the most perfect specimen, but I love the role they play in selecting it. If you want a stunning branch, select one on a hike well before the hustle of Thanksgiving.

Feeling fancy? Coat that baby with silver or white sparkly spray paint. Yowza.

Trim the branch so that it isn't obnoxiously tall or wide on your table. You're making a centerpiece – not a brush pile, my friend.

Place the branch in a jar or base. Add pebbles or marbles (optional) to give it a more stable base.

If you have young children and visions of broken vase and bits of tree branch wedged into your turkey, consider a smaller centerpiece. Or as an alternative you can suspend a single branch horizontally above the table. Gorgeous.

Make your leaves

From your old watercolor paintings (or colored paper, or old telephone bills or whatever you've got) cut out leaf shapes. I free form cut simple almond shapes with a little stem, but you can use these templates if you want something more refined.

Punch a hole near the leaf end of your leaves and thread some scrap yarn or string through. Knot.

Arrange your table

Place your tree on your Thanksgiving table.

Surround the tree with scattered leaves and pencils. (Glitter pens would be lovely, but we eat Thanksgiving on Great-Grandma's handmade lace tablecloth. So pencil it is.)

We put our gratitude tree on the table before the guests arrive. Then throughout the evening we all write down anything that we're inspired to share.

Even my dad – not famous for pouring his heart out through the pen – gets into the act.

Share your blessings

After dinner we remove the leaves from the Gratitude Tree and place them in a basket. Then as we gather for dessert or a glass of wine, we pass the basket around the room, taking turns reading the anonymous blessings that were shared.

It's a magical time – sometimes resulting in tears – as we find the words to express all that we are thankful for.

So. Good.

Want more? Five Family Projects to Cultivate Gratitude might be just the ticket. (A post I wrote for Simple Homeschool last year.)

I think Lupine was turning four the first time she had a tea party for her birthday. And every year since she's made the same request: a tea party with her dearest friends.

For a couple of years I remember wondering aloud, "Really, Lu? Are you sure you want another tea party?" But now I see how very Lupine it is, and a perfect way to celebrate another trip around the sun. And forever more Lupine's birthday will be inextricably interwoven with memories of fancy tea parties in my heart.

I think when she was small I was more concerned with making everything 'perfect', fun, and magical. Because you only turn four (or five, or six) once. Decorations, food, dessert, favors – I even remember wondering if we should plan activities for the kids to do during the party.

But I've mellowed with age and came to realize that there is no need for elaborate preparations. That if the party is small the fun takes care of itself.

And so our preparations were simple. We hit the flea market for a vintage tea cup for each friend (yes, the day before the party), and then Lupine set to work on setting the table. A 1970's bed sheet from my fabric stash for a tablecloth, some old dishes from our camper, a hand-me-down tea pot from my sister. Oh, and those three pretty vintage cups. Add a plate of sliced veggies with goat cheese and mini hot dogs, then finish with some homemade ice cream and lots of toppings. Easy-peasy.

I think our entire party budget was under $20 if you don't count food (and even with food it was easily under $50).

Less is more. Less is more. Less is more.

Yes, indeed.

Honestly, this year's big and thrilling addition was a set of paper umbrella toothpicks that Pete brought home from the grocery store. And I mean really. If you keep things simple enough, toothpick umbrellas are a huge win. I like that. A lot.

In the end, she had a wonderful, simple, oh-so-Lupine celebration.

I can't imagine it any other way.