Kieran is talking very well now, using five and six word sentences. Here are some words that he doesn't have quite down.
Padatiller = Caterpillar
Mococytal = Motorcycle
Hepicotter = Helicopter
Zukit = Music
Gnulk = Milk
Tract-ear = Tractor
Wototidder = Rototiller
Wonower or Wonmower = Lawnmower
Cut Tree "vvvvv" = Chainsaw
Backsetball = Basketball
Nuggow = Snuggle
Ky (fly) = Airplane
Heepo or Heepopotnus = Hippopotamus
Piddow = Pillow
The one we've heard most often lately is "Tract-ear". We rented a Bobcat three weeks ago and Kieran has been thinking of nothing else since. He searches for tractors everywhere we go: real tractors, pictures of tractors, lawnmowers, trucks, dump trucks, trailers, garbage trucks. Its all very exciting. We've heard "Tractir, daddy drive it, vvvvvv, beep, beep, beep, scoop, dump" over and over again.
Kieran has also become proficient at identifying the sounds of these machines. If we hear a noise, he knows right away if it is a chainsaw, lawnmower, motorcycle, large truck, or tractor and offers the correct label. Then, he looks up at mommy and says "Find it?" and starts walking.
Its very cute how he asks for things. He says "Mommy, nuggow it baby?", or "Hode it, baby?" When he gets tired he asks, "Piddow, banket, nuggow it baby?"
I wish we could get some of this on video, but he hides!
Wednesday, May 30, 2007
Monday, May 28, 2007
Turtle visits the Tennysonian
An Eastern Box turtle that looks a lot like the picture to the left has visited the Tennysonian this morning. Daddy was leaving for work and saw a terrapin crossing the road. Out of concern for its safety (we have seen the unfortunate results of similar crossings in the past), Daddy rescued the pretty little girl and brought her back to the Tennysonian as a morning wake-up surprise for Mommy and Baby.
As Eastern Box Turtles make excellent pets, we are considering keeping her for a while to get to know this amazing creature. We are converting to a single fish aquarium and will use the larger aquarium as a terrarium (it has a leak). With a nice basking light and all the lettuce one could desire, this will be a luxury hangout for our new friend.
We are currently looking for name suggestions. So far the one Daddy has suggested (Soup) has been rejected. Please submit your name suggestions to this post.
Friday, May 25, 2007
Ken Accepted by Gonzaga Grad Program
It's official, I have been accepted into Gonzaga's graduate program in organizational leadership. I start June 4th, it will be a busy summer and fall for the Tennyson's, as Maranda wraps up her 2nd to last class and starts her internship.
Sunday, May 13, 2007
Expectant Openness
Here is the text from a homily I prepared for our church service today.
First off let me come clean, I am a guy who likes flowers. Indeed, I really like flowers. So much so that I have intentionally surrounded myself with flowers in every home that I have lived in. Our current home was a rare find for a horticulture addict as myself, as it was owned by another flower lover who systematically planted blooming plants of all kinds during her 25 years of residence. I only half jokingly say that I bought the house for the yard! Maranda and I continue to find new flowering plants that we had never noticed before, its like a continual botanical adventure in our backyard.
As I have thought about flowers over the past couple weeks, I have asked myself why I enjoy them so much? My knee-jerk response is that, well, they are beautiful. But I hesitate to stop at such a simple answer. There are many forms of beauty in our world, and many other beautiful things that I appreciate, yet flowers seem to hold a special place. What is it about flowers that causes me to be so intentional about their inclusion in my life? As I pondered a little more, I wondered if it was their amazing colors that capture my mind? The brilliant crimson or pink blossoms of an azalea in spring always lifts my spirits, the purple and yellows of fall asters gives me a sense of peace. Flowers bring so much color into a backyard garden, a city park, or a high mountain meadow. Certainly the richness and variety of color is a big part of what entices me about flowers, yet this seems incomplete.
For one thing, some of my favorite flowers have very little bright color, such as a green orchid variety or a white rose. Many times I am put off by flowers that are too flaunting in color (although I make an exception for azaleas!) These flowers are too overdone, so in your face and full of their own beauty that they leave no room for the imagination. I leave these flowers at the plant nursery and instead come home with blooms that are more subtle, yet for me, far more magnificent.
So color seems too simplistic an explanation for why flowers are so meaningful to me. I wondered about other aspects of a flower’s beauty, their often amazing symmetry, their intricate architecture, their wonderful fragrance. Each of these aspects does capture some of what I appreciate about flowers, but I still had the sense that I was tip toeing around something bigger, something deeper with more significance. So I continued my contemplation.
Suddenly it occurred to me that perhaps I am limiting myself by only considering a flower’s visual beauty. Perhaps there is something more intrinsic to a flowers very being that resonates so much with me. As I began to explore this line of thought it became increasingly clear that flowers represented much more to me. The first thing that came to mind was that a flower represents fertility. Indeed, a flower’s primary function is to receive or transmit pollen. When I see a cherry tree or blueberry bush covered in blossoms it reminds me that the world is a good place, that life is happening all around me.
As I thought more about fertility I began to realize that a flower’s fertility is a very passive act. Instead of heading out into the countryside to find a mate, like many animals, insects, and Common Table bachelors do, a flower simply opens its bloom and waits. This open state of waiting really struck me. It is such an expectant state, a state of quietude and openness. Flowers don’t do anything, they don’t work or strive, yet in their act of becoming they ensure the survival of their species.
This expectant state of openness foreshadows something to come, something that is expected. Which of course is the arrival of the pollinator. The pollinator has a very special relationship with the flowers it pollinates, with some insects having evolved very unique and dramatic ways to reach a flowers nectar. Sam Doan told me of a moth in Madagascar that was discovered with a mouth piece a full foot long. Scientists were convinced that a unique flower existed that required such an apendage, but it wasn’t until many decades later that a night blooming orchid was discovered in the tops of the trees that had such a long, tubular body that only the this particular moth could pollinate it.
The relationship with the pollinator is critical for the plant’s survival, as without the appropriate pollinator no seeds will be produced to form new plants. This is such a quiet reality that most of us probably never stop to think about its importance. Perhaps you have recently heard that the honey bee in North America has been rapidly disappearing, up to 70% in some areas. In fact, a senate hearing was recently convened to hear testimony regarding the massive implications of this turn of events. A full 30% of food grown in the US is threatened by this turn of events, suddenly the simple honey bee is at the fore-front of US economics.
Just as pollinators are critical for flowers, trees, and plants to survive, in a similar fashion, I suspect that human beings also require a kind-of spiritual pollination to maintain our vitality, our love of others, indeed, our very humanity. What then is the pollinator of our hearts? For some, it may be the touch of a loved one’s hand, the beauty found in a painting, a profoundly touching poem, serving the poor, or a simple prayer. What gives each of these events profound significance is the expectant openness of our hearts. If we are closed, we will prevent the deeper act of spiritual revitalization, just as a closed bloom cannot be entered by the honey bee.
This type of expectant openness is very hard at times, especially for those of us who have been spiritually wounded. I know that this describes me most of the time. Becoming spiritually vulnerable may be the hardest task that many of us face. It allows the possibility for additional wounds, so we are strongly tempted to close up and protect what remains. Yet risk can never be fully removed from this state of expectant openness, just as a flower is never guaranteed to survive the harsh sun or the freezing temperatures before dawn. Indeed, it is the act of taking this risk that makes beauty possible. As an admitted flower lover, it is most certainly a risk worth taking.
First off let me come clean, I am a guy who likes flowers. Indeed, I really like flowers. So much so that I have intentionally surrounded myself with flowers in every home that I have lived in. Our current home was a rare find for a horticulture addict as myself, as it was owned by another flower lover who systematically planted blooming plants of all kinds during her 25 years of residence. I only half jokingly say that I bought the house for the yard! Maranda and I continue to find new flowering plants that we had never noticed before, its like a continual botanical adventure in our backyard.
As I have thought about flowers over the past couple weeks, I have asked myself why I enjoy them so much? My knee-jerk response is that, well, they are beautiful. But I hesitate to stop at such a simple answer. There are many forms of beauty in our world, and many other beautiful things that I appreciate, yet flowers seem to hold a special place. What is it about flowers that causes me to be so intentional about their inclusion in my life? As I pondered a little more, I wondered if it was their amazing colors that capture my mind? The brilliant crimson or pink blossoms of an azalea in spring always lifts my spirits, the purple and yellows of fall asters gives me a sense of peace. Flowers bring so much color into a backyard garden, a city park, or a high mountain meadow. Certainly the richness and variety of color is a big part of what entices me about flowers, yet this seems incomplete.
For one thing, some of my favorite flowers have very little bright color, such as a green orchid variety or a white rose. Many times I am put off by flowers that are too flaunting in color (although I make an exception for azaleas!) These flowers are too overdone, so in your face and full of their own beauty that they leave no room for the imagination. I leave these flowers at the plant nursery and instead come home with blooms that are more subtle, yet for me, far more magnificent.
So color seems too simplistic an explanation for why flowers are so meaningful to me. I wondered about other aspects of a flower’s beauty, their often amazing symmetry, their intricate architecture, their wonderful fragrance. Each of these aspects does capture some of what I appreciate about flowers, but I still had the sense that I was tip toeing around something bigger, something deeper with more significance. So I continued my contemplation.
Suddenly it occurred to me that perhaps I am limiting myself by only considering a flower’s visual beauty. Perhaps there is something more intrinsic to a flowers very being that resonates so much with me. As I began to explore this line of thought it became increasingly clear that flowers represented much more to me. The first thing that came to mind was that a flower represents fertility. Indeed, a flower’s primary function is to receive or transmit pollen. When I see a cherry tree or blueberry bush covered in blossoms it reminds me that the world is a good place, that life is happening all around me.
As I thought more about fertility I began to realize that a flower’s fertility is a very passive act. Instead of heading out into the countryside to find a mate, like many animals, insects, and Common Table bachelors do, a flower simply opens its bloom and waits. This open state of waiting really struck me. It is such an expectant state, a state of quietude and openness. Flowers don’t do anything, they don’t work or strive, yet in their act of becoming they ensure the survival of their species.
This expectant state of openness foreshadows something to come, something that is expected. Which of course is the arrival of the pollinator. The pollinator has a very special relationship with the flowers it pollinates, with some insects having evolved very unique and dramatic ways to reach a flowers nectar. Sam Doan told me of a moth in Madagascar that was discovered with a mouth piece a full foot long. Scientists were convinced that a unique flower existed that required such an apendage, but it wasn’t until many decades later that a night blooming orchid was discovered in the tops of the trees that had such a long, tubular body that only the this particular moth could pollinate it.
The relationship with the pollinator is critical for the plant’s survival, as without the appropriate pollinator no seeds will be produced to form new plants. This is such a quiet reality that most of us probably never stop to think about its importance. Perhaps you have recently heard that the honey bee in North America has been rapidly disappearing, up to 70% in some areas. In fact, a senate hearing was recently convened to hear testimony regarding the massive implications of this turn of events. A full 30% of food grown in the US is threatened by this turn of events, suddenly the simple honey bee is at the fore-front of US economics.
Just as pollinators are critical for flowers, trees, and plants to survive, in a similar fashion, I suspect that human beings also require a kind-of spiritual pollination to maintain our vitality, our love of others, indeed, our very humanity. What then is the pollinator of our hearts? For some, it may be the touch of a loved one’s hand, the beauty found in a painting, a profoundly touching poem, serving the poor, or a simple prayer. What gives each of these events profound significance is the expectant openness of our hearts. If we are closed, we will prevent the deeper act of spiritual revitalization, just as a closed bloom cannot be entered by the honey bee.
This type of expectant openness is very hard at times, especially for those of us who have been spiritually wounded. I know that this describes me most of the time. Becoming spiritually vulnerable may be the hardest task that many of us face. It allows the possibility for additional wounds, so we are strongly tempted to close up and protect what remains. Yet risk can never be fully removed from this state of expectant openness, just as a flower is never guaranteed to survive the harsh sun or the freezing temperatures before dawn. Indeed, it is the act of taking this risk that makes beauty possible. As an admitted flower lover, it is most certainly a risk worth taking.
Thursday, May 10, 2007
Excavation "success"
Well, Kieran and Daddy successfully managed to carve out a large flat area in our precipitous backyard. Everything went off without a hitch except for a "minor" repair to our septic main line. Seems the original installers of the septic system did not anticipate the lawn needs of future owners 20 years later, idiots!!
The work with the bobcat made a big impression on the yard and an even bigger impression on Kieran. He has quite literally not stopped talking about it, miming with his hands as he says "Daddy drive it scoop dig dump...." and the like. If only I had known I could be my son's hero for a paltry $400 Bobcat rental, I would have done this months ago!! Now I just need to figure out my wife...
The work with the bobcat made a big impression on the yard and an even bigger impression on Kieran. He has quite literally not stopped talking about it, miming with his hands as he says "Daddy drive it scoop dig dump...." and the like. If only I had known I could be my son's hero for a paltry $400 Bobcat rental, I would have done this months ago!! Now I just need to figure out my wife...
Friday, May 04, 2007
Bobcat has arrived
A Bobcat skidsteer identical to the one in the picture arrived this morning in front of our house. Daddy is planning to move a large quantity of dirt in the backyard to prepare a level lawn area for a baby play area and volleyball picnics, etc. Kieran woke up with Mommy to sign the paperwork and is going bannanas over the arrival! As you may know Kieran is fascinated with all equipment and trucks and is mesmerized by its sudden appearance. Daddy was on the phone to Mommy barely able to hear her over the loud pleas to go back outside and look at the tractor. Look for more pictures of the coming work and a beaming toddler.
Tuesday, May 01, 2007
Baby Logic!
Two brief stories about the cute and entirely faultless logic of toddlers.
1) Kieran was eating a glazed donut the other day and paused for a moment of reflection, then turned to mommy and gesturing to the donut stated with confidence, "Cake...Candy...Bagel." Cake Candy Bagel, sounds like it would give Dunkin' and Krispy Kremes a run for their money!
2) This evening while Kieran and Daddy were outside dragging branches around the yard (typical man work), Kieran noticed an ant crawling on a log. He bent over with interest, than after a few moments laid his finger across the log in front of the ant and said "hop up!" To fully understand the deductive process you have to realize that Kieran has been taught to hold Zeke, our cockatiel, using the same command. His earnesty was more than just a little cute!
1) Kieran was eating a glazed donut the other day and paused for a moment of reflection, then turned to mommy and gesturing to the donut stated with confidence, "Cake...Candy...Bagel." Cake Candy Bagel, sounds like it would give Dunkin' and Krispy Kremes a run for their money!
2) This evening while Kieran and Daddy were outside dragging branches around the yard (typical man work), Kieran noticed an ant crawling on a log. He bent over with interest, than after a few moments laid his finger across the log in front of the ant and said "hop up!" To fully understand the deductive process you have to realize that Kieran has been taught to hold Zeke, our cockatiel, using the same command. His earnesty was more than just a little cute!
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