In Which Sap Bubbles Up

Ava carrying sap the 'ol fashioned way

Spring in New England is a funny thing. It begins to suggest itself in February when the light begins to change and you can sense the shift a-coming. The suggestion is thrilling as we are all growing weary of winter's grasp. Even still, each time it snows in February, I feel a strange impulse to cheer.

Lovely February snow

Cheer?
Yes, crazy, I know... but if you think about it, it's like rooting for the underdog somehow. You know the story and you know how it will end-- the glory of spring will triumph. But I admire the lingering winter storms. They seem to know that the wee buds, plants, and flowers... as well as this winter loving mama... are not quite ready to burst forth with the energy of spring.
Besides, I have always been a big fan of the snooze button. Those delicious last moments of sleep that you gather before you absolutely MUST get up are scrumptious. That is what February is like in New England for me. Mother Nature has hit the snooze button and we get to delight in a few more sweet, dreamy winter weeks.

We escaped March with a trip
to a Butterfly "house" and
we found truffula trees..
which everyone needs.

And then there is March. March is like the messy, disheveled part of waking up. We get up, stretch, put the bed and ourselves to rights before we are ready to greet the day. This to me is the most tiresome month on the calendar. I long for the melting to be done, for the muddy treks to be easier, and the unkempt look of the outdoors to get ship shape again.

But we get one extraordinarily sweet treat from the natural world in thanks for putting up with the rumpled bed clothes for so long....Maple Syrup. Miraculous, yummy, dripping from the trees, gloriously sweet sap from the maple trees. Oh my, what a treat it is.... I love the little metal buckets hanging from their hooks in the woods... and the smells of the wood burning... and the steam of the sap boiling. It is a downright dazzling part of being a New Englander.

Modern day boiling

And you can ignore, even if just for a week or so the mud that cakes your shoes each time you go for an outdoor excursion.

And now we have entered April. Snowdrops and crocuses, and bits of green emerging hither and thither, and the sun shining on heads that dare to be outdoors uncovered. A body can do no less than rejoice.

          The children put on their rollerblades before the snow was really gone. They jumped on their

Rollerblades

scooters and bikes, dig in the dirt, and galavant out in the woods. Already their fingernails carry dirt in their cuticles that cannot be removed without a soak. Already their skin has taken on that outdoor, earthy, sweaty smell of childhood. Already there is a new glow in their skin that sparkles through their dirt stained cheeks that lets us know that spring indeed has fully arrived.

Promise...

We are here. Spring has triumphed... we always knew it would. And the glories of spring in New England unfold themselves in our eager presence.

Ahhh... it is so good.  Rejoice in Spring!





Books we are reading right now...

With my fella... good stuff! We are actually
on book 2 -- the Indian Returns 

With my lil' un... we need some of
Mrs. Piggle Wiggle!

In Which We March Towards Ten

My Sunbeam

Ten Years Old, that is.  As my thoughts turn to Spring and images of green grass and May Poles and Flowers dance in my head, I keep being reminded that as all these joys come tumbling towards us, my sweet boy will also turn ten.

Oh my. Do you know this child? Forgive my gushing and my dramatic prose, but he simply is a golden beam of light. He came tumbling in to our lives quickly and with amazing force almost a full decade ago, and I am quite sure that my world shifted on its axis from that point on.

 

A most excellent brother

  He is young and sprightly, with energy that seems to carry him a wee bit off the      ground most of the time. He is quick to smile and has such a sparkle in his eyes. He is nimble and rosy cheeked, quick and always full of laughter. He is a good friend and has a loving heart. And he can be a most excellent brother.

          
 And.

Strong and capable

 He can be stubborn. Oh my, yes. And    persistent. Without a doubt. (These traits will serve him well in some parts of life!) And this guy does not love work (as in chores around the house). Oh my, no. In fact, those large sparkle-y eyes of his can roll dreadfully at the                      thought of a task.

A gentle soul

You see, life is way too interesting to be weighed down by the minutia of home tasks. This child who prefers to float about, peeking at that, drawing this, poking at that, practicing headstands, running, bounding, and frolicking about like a young colt, teasing his sister or building with lego's... suddenly gets plopped right down to earth with a thump whenever he must empty his lunch box or feed the dogs. He finds having feet firmly on the ground most tiresome and disagreeable.

Alas, a mama's work is often helping one face the most disagreeable tasks of life. So there we often are with me reminding and he eye rolling. I am often demanding him to come down to earth (otherwise known as, quiet down, quit jumping, do your chores) and he, unable to resist the upside down gravity of his nature, persistently resists.

class play-- dreadful giants

But.
We have books. Every night I read to him. Together we are transported elsewhere as we cuddle under blankets and open our current book. We travel far and wide on these journeys. It is one of the things I love best in this world, and I do believe he feels the same. Our books often launch us into discussions of the heart... discussions of our literary characters, yes, but they often lead to the matters of being nine. Of friendships, of hurt feelings, of hopes and dreams for the future, of wondering about life. They frequently wander to the questions of my life...questions of how I met daddy... or questions about dear Granny. And they even sometimes go further afield as he wonders about reincarnation and death and God and goodness.

As I leave his room each night, I think about how hard it is to be nine. How amazing it is to be nine. How difficult and how wonderful it is to grow up, become, find yourself and sculpt your very own ideas and beliefs.  I feel overwhelmed at the honor of being his Mama. Overwhelmed, sometimes, of the task of being his Mama. I feel strongly that his dad and I have been given this task for a reason, that we have what it takes to guide him. And even though his levity is much of what makes him so lovable by all, his dad and I must discover ways to help him find it less disagreeable to walk firmly on the earth. I believe is is partly our duty to help him access his persistence in the work of his hands and help him unearth a virtue of careful work.

A lot of the time however, we just observe him as he revels in his lightness. We admire his agility and his grace, his charm and his humor. We enjoy his art, his music, his imagination, and his compassion.

And we wonder where the years went and how it came to be that he is nearly ten.






The best books:

We just finished the entire set. We have been on the wagon going west, we have been through the grasshopper plagues, we have suffered with the Ingalls' family through the Long Winter, and we have joyfully anticipated the love of Almanzo and Laura. Oh what a trip it has been. Enough cannot be said of the beauty of these books.

In Which We find School

My little half pint is a homeschooler.


It's true.

Ohhh... that is a big word.

Homeschooling. 

That one struck fear in my heart for quite a time. I must admit (rather sheepishly) that I came to this only after a fair amount of inner kicking and screaming.

Why? Oh, I don't know... I believed she deserved more...

I did not believe I was able to provide the type of rich environment that the teachers at our local Waldorf nursery school could...

Secretly I believed they held some sort of magic fairy dust that they sprinkled on all the kiddos to instill joy and creativity and baking bread wonders.

After all, it worked beautifully for my big fella. We have had a dreamy trip down the Waldorf path, and it is a path we continue for him with absolute delight and conviction.

But then there is my little one. Their magic fairy dust did nothing for this girl. She needs something different. At least for now.

So after letting go of all resistance, we set off this fall on our homeschooling adventure.



And lo and behold  my world broke open.

My girl and me. We are a happy learning duo.



Steeped as I am in Waldorf ways, no doubt this method will be the biggest influence of her home learning. I am a believer in the pedegogy that surrounds this education. She is five, with a summer birthday, which means her Kindergarten year will actually begin in the coming fall. (Yes she will be six at the beginning of kindergarten.) I am OVERJOYED for the added time.  (Can I say it louder, please?) OVERJOYED!!! 

It is not often in this modern world that we are we offered more time. Usually we are all disappointed with any idea of a delay. Culturally we are so eager to rush off to teach as much as possible as quickly as possible... precocious has become a word people use with fondness. A parent often shines with pride when their child has memorized facts by age 3 & 4. (Dinosaur names and rivers in Africa that shelter an endangered species of crocodile, and how to spell Australia, perhaps.) I know I stand outside of some modern thinking-- but precociousness, I am grateful to say, we faithfully have guarded against with both our children. 



Back in September beginning our outdoor adventures



So we have the rest of this year AND another full school year before traditional academics begin. (And by traditional, I am speaking of Waldorf-style classical type academics, which unfortunately is not traditional at all.)

So, as I was unexpectedly faced with homeschooling this past September. I knew one thing. We had time.

Lots of daily time, and more than a year of homeschooling lay before us. What on earth would we do?

I began with walks. Long walks into the woods every single day. A person I greatly respect once told me that walking outdoors on uneven ground was the healthiest thing to do with a child. So that was my beginning. Outdoors, sunshine, fresh air and walking long distances.

No academics, worksheets, or phonics for us... we are going to treasure these fleeting days of childhood.



Discovering the East Pole



Hiking to high places

         We have made discoveries, we sing, we look closely and are joyfully full of gratitude for time, and our surroundings, the dogs, and most importantly, for each other.


The day we skinny dipped





Baking




Building snow forts 



Somewhere along the way my confidence began to grow. I recognized the gift

I had been given in this opportunity to be her mom and her teacher.
What do I want to teach her? 

skating on the frozen pond



To be comfortable in her own skin...

to be friends with the birds in the backyard...

to know her neighbors and how to greet them...

to know our woods and learn its secrets...

that when you sing, joy rushes in...

that when you lose your temper it is not easy to find again...

to love our town and know its landmarks...

to stop each day to pray...

that moving your body feels good...

that painting and cooking and housekeeping are arts...

to go slowly or you'll miss the good stuff...

that I will always go to the ends of the earth for her...

Winter has come, and with it mounds of deep snow. It has limited our many houred long walks in the woods. But we have skating and sledding and snow forts and places to romp. And indoors we have time for baking and storytelling and building forts and of course books...glorious gorgeous books.



Who knew...the magic fairy dust that my little half pint needed was on my fingertips after all!

Our favorite books:

 

A gem-- pure childhood gold!











Any of the Old Mother West Wind Stories are pure treasures-- almost up there with Pooh... 

Just finished with these... 



 







Just beginning these now.

All  time  most beloved stories... children's literature most high...







In Which Owl Comes for Breakfast

Saturday morning the kids were outside shortly before 9 am getting ready to run errands with dad. Little half pint spots a blue jay flying by, and then suddenly... they see this fine fellow sitting in the tree right outside our door. We all felt awed at the sight of him. Gorgeous.

After reveling in him a bit we all went on our ways... Hub and the kiddos all on errands, myself back to the house for cleaning. But I couldn't help thinking about this owl as I went about my morning. Humbled to realize that animal eyes are watching us even when we don't look up. Or down. And I felt honored... as if Owl Spirit was with us in this house. And that seems good and right.

He stayed...and stayed. I kept going to "check" on this one... wondering when he last ate (we have heaps of snow keeping all the mice safely underground), if he was sleeping, if he was cold... (it was below zero this day). I was struck with his patience. He sat, unmoved by the crows constant harassment, unmoved by the gusts of wind, or that odd lady who kept coming out to look at him. He just sat. Watching. Being.

Sometimes as I walk by my back door, my cat Chocolate is sitting on the porch calmly, serenely looking at the door. When I see her, and she sees me, her posture seems to lengthen-- as if to say, "I knew you would come." I always wonder how long she has been sitting there unmoved and patient. Watching. Being.

There is a sense of wisdom that spoke to me through these animals. A yearning rises up in me. I hear their message. Sit. Watch. Be.

My meditation teacher often spoke of the difference of Human Doings and Human Beings. I know it is true-- even when I sit down at home, I am doing-- reading, talking, eating, contemplating... or worse getting online! When I get out of the habit of sitting meditation I really feel it on a deep level. Sitting connects me to that deeper part within me, the part that holds my inner wisdom, my higher self. When I sit daily I am able to access that deeper, inner, higher part of myself more readily as I go on to my day to day life. It manages to muffle the mindless chatter that makes up our modern world, just a bit for me.

I have been out of practice. But Owl helped me remember.

Wisdom from Piglet:

" 'There's Pooh', Piglet thought to himself. 'Pooh hasn't much Brain, but he never comes to any harm. He does silly things and they come out right. There's Owl. Owl hasn't exactly got Brain, but he Knows Things. He would know the Right Thing to Do when Surrounded by Water. There's Rabbit. He hasn't Learnt in Books, but he can always Think of a Clever Plan. There's Kanga. She isn't Clever, Kanga isn't, but she would be so anxious about Roo that she would do a Good Thing to Do without thinking about it. And then there is Eeyore. And Eeyore is so miserable anyhow that he wouldn't mind about this. But I wonder what Christopher Robin would do?' "

My favorite children's book about Owls:





And my favorite book to study birds (Owls included):

"Spooky chuckled. 'I've got an empty stomach myself, Peter,' said he, 'but it isn't making me unhappy. I have a feeling that somewhere there is a fat Mouse waiting for me.'

In Which We are Introduced

Cottleston, Cottleston, Cottleston Pie
A fly can't bird, but a bird can fly
Ask me a riddle and I'll reply
Cottleston, Cottleston, Cottleston Pie
-- A.A. Milne

I remember when I was in elementary school, our guidance counselor came to the classroom and told us kids a thing or two about our futures. We were destined, he said, to be just a social security number; the only way to stand out from one another was to compete academically. According to this man, the future held a world in which only the best and most successful students were destined to live a life worth living!!

...A fly can't bird...

I remember closing my eyes and wishing hard that I was growing up instead in the mountains of North Carolina in the 1920's...and specifically as best friend to my Granny when she was a girl. (If you are going to wish, may as well get down to the details, I say!) I smile at the childish sweetness of that. I really did long to be there with her. The stories she told me filled my mind with images of simple joys. One in particular was how she and her best friend would run to the field to meet one another. When they saw each other from afar they would start waving and calling to one another in all their joy and excitement.

Often as a kid, when I closed my eyes and wished I had been born in a different time and place, (which was often) I would be there in that field, waving and calling and running toward that sweet person who I so dearly loved. That image stays with me still. I guess somehow, somewhere, I am running in that field.

...but a bird can fly...

My childish desire to live in a different time has continued to be a presence in my life. Though we are a modern family, I tend to remain skeptical of much of what modern culture offers. I lean heavily on the "good ol' stuff", especially when it comes to advice... and equally especially when it comes to children's literature.

I am a mama... a good ol' fashioned mama (who happens to decide to blog,but never mind) who tries hard to encircle her children with a fierce love and protection with a good dose of humor and heavily laden with kisses and books. Good books. And I am a wife... still happily in love with the man I was fortunate to marry. Oh, and we live in New Hampshire... and I love it here!

My bright eyed boy, aged 9 & a half, has brought the sunlight into my life as I had never experienced it before.... ever since the day he was born. Lordy, lordy there have been hard days. But somehow that boy has a light in him that shines right out of those big eyes and drips right off his lips that can make the hardest day turn back into gold. I am not sure if  his feet have truly touched the ground yet. I think he still floats a bit in the spirit world.

My dear lil 'un, a girl aged 5 & a half, has two feet planted firmly on this earth, and delves her hands right into this thing called life with unfettered glory. She plans on not missing a single opportunity to live each precious moment, and can just about be counted on to be good at anything she tries to do. She has a light that shines from her eyes as if to say-- "dare me!" But there is a fragile heart and spirit underneath all that fire for life, and despite her willingness to charge forth, she is oh-so-grateful for this mama who she can run back to when things go wrong. (As unfortunately they often seem to do.)

The hub is a wonderful soul who loves his family more than life itself. He occasionally scratches his head at how he landed here with me... and good naturedly accepts and often adopts my crazy ideas. He works so hard for us, that dear man, and doesn't get nearly the accolades he deserves for truly taking good care of us all. He still has a smile that knocks me off my feet and a kindness that is just envelopes my heart.

And so We are Introduced...again... or for the first time.

Cottleston, Cottleston, Cottleston Pie.