journal

There's a poem I like and lately, refer to often. It's called "Welcome to Holland".

It was written in 1987 by social activist Emily Perl Kingsley, about the experience of raising a child with a disability. I've attempted to sum it up here, but can't seem to do it justice. It's really much more profound to be read in its entirety.

Welcome to Holland

I am often asked to describe the experience of raising a child with a disability – to try to help people who have not shared that unique experience to understand it, to imagine how it would feel. It's like this…

When you're going to have a baby, it's like planning a fabulous vacation trip – to Italy. You buy a bunch of guidebooks and make your wonderful plans. The Coliseum, the Michelangelo David, the gondolas in Venice. You may learn some handy phrases in Italian. It's all very exciting.

After months of eager anticipation, the day finally arrives. You pack your bags and off you go. Several hours later, the plane lands. The stewardess comes in and says, "Welcome to Holland."

"Holland?!" you say. "What do you mean, Holland?" I signed up for Italy! I'm supposed to be in Italy. All my life I've dreamed of going to Italy.

But there's been a change in the flight plan. They've landed in Holland and there you must stay.

The important thing is that they haven't taken you to some horrible, disgusting, filthy place, full of pestilence, famine and disease. It's just a different place.

So you must go out and buy a new guidebook. And you must learn a whole new language. And you will meet a whole new group of people you would never have met.

It's just a different place. It's slower paced than Italy, less flashy than Italy. But after you've been there for a while and you catch your breath, you look around, and you begin to notice that Holland has windmills, Holland has tulips, Holland even has Rembrandts.

But everyone you know is busy coming and going from Italy, and they're all bragging about what a wonderful time they had there. And for the rest of your life you will say, "Yes, that's where I was supposed to go. That's what I had planned."

The pain of that will never, ever, go away, because the loss of that dream is a very significant loss.

But if you spend your life mourning the fact that you didn't get to Italy, you may never be free to enjoy the very special, the very lovely things about Holland.

Written by Emily Perl Kingsley

Autism.

It's funny what one little word can do.

Crew was diagnosed with autism last week.

Up to this point, the worries have been fierce and countless. The what ifs and panic. The whys and anger. The guilt, the shame, the grief. Was it something I did? The tears. The "red flags". The "confusing case". The not understanding. The fear. The lack of normalcy, whatever that means. The comparison to others. The dreaded developmental checklists. The isolation. The pressure a woman can feel to do it all right. The blame a mother can put on herself. The punishing pangs of self-doubt. The menacing refrain of anxiety, like a song that skips the verses and just repeats, over and over again.

And yet. These past few years have unearthed the greatest joy I've known. If you know our boy, then you know his light. This thing, this diagnosis - it won't define him. He is still the happy little Crew who loves pancakes, choo choos, tickles, his dad, and me. Like any parent, I'm wildly in love with every bit of his uniqueness and find even the traits that lend a nod to autism intensely endearing. And this chaotic mess of feelings I'm sorting through - they aren't about him. They're about my growth, my journey.

Stephen and I have held tight to each other - mustering strength we didn't know we had, daring honesty and dredging it up from inside ourselves, challenging thoughts and redefining success, learning to put faith in greater places than our own four hands, letting go of fear. It's hasn't been entirely graceful, but it's something, and we're better for it. Our family is better for it. And for that, perhaps this is all a gift.

A couple weeks ago, we went picking for strawberries and raspberries at a nearby farm in Carnation. Crew couldn't wait to help and gleefully chanted the names of the berries over and over as he plucked them from the field. He is 3 and a half, but just really started talking in the last couple months. How good it was to hear him say "strawberry" and "raspberry" over and over again! There I sat in the patch - wanting nothing but this moment - big, fat, salty tears running down behind the camera.

On the afternoon we returned home from his evaluation, once he had settled down for a nap, I padded into the kitchen and began to wash the last of the strawberries from our day of picking, still in the fridge and desperate for some attention. I put on a little Norah Jones, and calmed myself in the rhythm of hulling their tops and slicing them, slowly, one by one. Maybe for jam, maybe for muffins, a shortcake perhaps. I didn’t know yet. I just knew that I needed to be right here, doing this.

Aren't we lucky that every summer there are berries to be picked? In this world of unknowns where none of us are immune to pain, grief, and struggle, we can find those things that help us steady our feet a bit. Those things we can count on. Those things that lend as a harbinger for joy, even if we're not always okay.

There is some relief in all this. We can let go of that breath we've been holding for far too long and carry on. We're going places. Better places than we would have picked for ourselves.

As you may know from a couple posts back, we have, in fact, been to Holland. And it is fantastic.

How is it that I've only posted one granola recipe here?

I could probably devote a whole blog or Instagram page to it. I love the stuff. Borderline obsessed. We always have a jar of it on our kitchen counter, one with a flip-top lid large enough to stick your hand into and fish around for the good stuff if you please. The minute we tip out the last few clusters, Crew points at the jar and gives a disapproving look. "Empty!" he declares. Our post-nap plans are settled then. We'll be making granola today.

Back in late April, I attended a two-day food photography workshop with Sara and Hugh Forte of Sprouted Kitchen. It was held here in Seattle at local photographer + stylist Aran Goyoaga's gorgeous light-filled studio near Pike Place Market. I admire all of their work immensely and was ecstatic to be working side-by-side with each of them. The weekend they put on for us was positively dreamy, to say the least.

I love such things, too, to meet the other participants who are also there to learn. I delight in the story of creatives - the work they're doing and why they're doing it, the messages they're putting out into the community, where they hope to go. That sense of connection - I crave it so much right now. I could have pulled up a chair and stayed awhile with each of them.

On our second morning of the workshop, we walked into the kitchen to find a big canister of granola on the counter (yes!) and bowls stacked high just beside. Aran went about, setting out the yogurt and pulling a batch of homemade rhubarb jam from the fridge. Not long after, she revealed the rhubarb-almond galette that had been bubbling in the oven, its wafting scent putting us in a tizzy.

So naturally, completely inspired by this mini celebration of rhubarb, I rushed home just after the workshop ended (stopping first, of course, to pick up some rhubarb) and get to making something of my very own with it. Feeling a bit impatient, this was no time for galettes. I got to work over the stove, tossing in chopped stalks of bright pink rhubarb, plump little early-season strawberries, a squeeze of lemon, and some sugar too. I gave it a good simmer and once it smelled sticky sweet, called it jam.

I have so many granola recipes I could share here, but decided to go with a good everyday one that I turn to often. I assure you, there will be more. This one is easy, simple to modify with what you've got in the pantry, and cooks up quickly. I adore the punchy lemon that really comes through and the big toasty coconut chips that crackle next to the chew of the oats.

Use a good plain yogurt for the base. We like whole milk yogurt at our house for its flavor and oomph, but do as you wish. Gently swirl in the rhubarb-strawberry quick jam until it's rippled pink and spoon over the granola. Simple. A quick breakfast that starts you off well.

This is a good one to do with little ones at home too. Hand them a wooden spoon to stir and let them have a go. They can help measure and pour too. Granola is pretty resilient and can handle an extra cup of oats or handful of nuts pretty well. Do guard the salt, though. Experience tells me that a quarter cup of salt just won't do in just about any recipe.

everyday granola with yogurt + rhubarb-strawberry quick jam // makes 6 cups of granola and 1 cup of jam

Once you get your hands on a homemade batch of granola, you'll never go back to a box again. This recipe is flexible and easy to switch things out depending on what you like and have in your pantry. Choose raw nuts and seeds if you can, meaning they haven't been salted or toasted, since we'll be doing that ourselves. Watch the tray carefully while baking and stir occasionally to make sure it doesn't burn around the edges, though some extra toasty bits are nice too.

I like this jam on the tart-side and a little less sweet since I'm serving it with sweetened granola. If you'd like yours a little sweeter, by all means, add another tablespoon or two of sugar. The tartness will mellow a bit when mixed with yogurt too. To dice the rhubarb, trim each end of the stalk and slice it in half lengthwise. Then cut each half into small pieces crosswise.

for the granola:

1/4 cup (57 g) coconut oil

1/2 cup (150 g) pure maple syrup or honey

zest of 1/2 large lemon

3 generous cups (300 g) rolled oats

1 1/2 cups (150 g) roughly chopped raw nuts (such as almonds, walnuts, pecans, and/or cashews)

1/2 cup (60 g) shelled raw pumpkin seeds

2 tablespoons (20 g) flax seeds

1/2 cup (25 g) unsweetened coconut flakes

Sea salt

1/2 cup (70 g) chopped dried fruit (such as apricots and dates)

Plain whole milk yogurt, for serving

To make the granola, preheat your oven to 350°F. Line a baking tray with parchment paper and set aside.

Combine the coconut oil and maple syrup or honey in a small saucepan on the stove and set the heat to medium-low. Allow the coconut oil to melt and mix with the sweetener, stirring occasionally. Remove from heat and cool slightly, then stir in the lemon zest.

In a large bowl, combine the oats, nuts, pumpkin seeds, flax seeds, coconut flakes, and a good pinch of sea salt. Mix well. Add the wet ingredients and stir until coated evenly. Scatter the granola onto the prepared tray, spreading it evenly as you go. Pop the tray into the oven and bake for 20-25 minutes, pulling it out to stir every 5-10 minutes and make sure it doesn't burn around the edges. (I tend to bake it for 10 minutes, stir, then check and stir every 5 minutes from there.) It's done when it looks golden brown and toasty. Remove from the oven, add the dried fruit, and allow to cool.

To serve, spoon the yogurt into bowls and swirl in a good-sized dollop of the jam (recipe below). Top with the granola. Store the granola in a glass jar or tupperware on the countertop or in the pantry. Keeps for at least a week, but it's doubtful to last that long.

for the jam:

1 cup (4 oz) chopped rhubarb

1 1/2 heaping cups (8 oz) hulled and chopped strawberries

2 tablespoons pure cane sugar

1 teaspoon loosely packed lemon zest

2 tablespoons freshly squeezed lemon juice

Sea salt, to taste (optional)

To make the jam, combine the rhubarb and strawberries in a small saucepan. Add the sugar, lemon zest, and lemon juice. Add the teeniest bit of salt if you wish, just enough to bring out the sweetness of the fruit. Set the heat to medium-high; cook until the mixture begins to bubble. Reduce the heat a tad to a simmer and let it go until it breaks down and gets jammy but before it begins to stick to the bottom of the pan. Remove from heat and cool. Store in the fridge and use within a week.

Summer official is just around the corner! I'm dreaming of ice cream cones curbside on sizzling hot days, picnics that last well into the evening, and lots and lots of rosé. You?

xo,

Carrie