A Fall Farewell

The season is quickly changing.

And it's beautiful, isn't it?

To everything there is a season.
The trees know this. When it's time to change they dress in vibrant splendor for the occasion and then quickly and quietly they let go and move on to the quiet settling of another season.

So it is, too, right here.
This season of sharing life on my rockpile is heading into a new season. A season of settling in. A season of quiet.
We shall meet here again another time.

Enjoy the beauty of the changing seasons.
Farewell for now!

Of Wars, Watercolors, and Winnie the Pooh

It's here. Leaves turning and falling. New birds visiting for a short time at the feeder as they travel through. The smell of burning wood. An extra blanket and the window open only a crack.

The books are out and we're spending a little more time in. But not all of it!!

The time period in history we will be covering this year is roughly the gold rush through present day. That's a lot of years. That's a lot of wars! I'm thinking it will be a really great year, as there is nothing more exciting to study in a certain 11-year-old's mind than anything that has to do with wars. A.n.y.t.h.i.n.g. It borders on obsession.
We began our school year by taking a trip to the Charles Lindbergh house and museum in Little Falls. We've been here several times but it is a family favorite. It was just as good this time as it was the first time we came.


Before leaving home that morning, we had checked online to see if the museum at Fort Ripley was open. The site said it was open every day except for National Holidays. Since it was Labor Day, we assumed that it probably wasn't open. But since we were so close, Hubby decided we should just drive in anyway, "just in case". I'm so glad we did. When I mentioned to the lady at the counter that we almost didn't stop because of the website, she said, "Oh. You can't go by that." Guess not.
The museum was fabulous. We could have spent much, much, longer there than we did. I think that once our school year is over, a return trip may be in order.

Besides us, there was only one other visitor. She was a woman about my age, thin, with short,dark hair. She approached me between the exhibits and asked if the two boys were mine. She had a thick European accent. I answered yes. She told me to be sure to tell them all about this war (pointing to the WWll exhibits), to tell them just how terrible it was. Her words faltered  over the lump in her throat. She tried to gather herself back together. I gave her a quick hug and asked her where she was from.  She told me the Netherlands, and the boys came back from wherever they were when they heard us talking. She said that many, many people were buried there. Too many. She said she had adopted two families from the U.S. who had soldiers lost in her homeland. She comes here to visit them. She struggled through her words. She ended by patting my shoulder and nodding toward my two guys who were listening with wide eyes and said, "So tell them. Don't let them forget". I wish I had thought to ask her for a picture. I wish I would have had time to ask her some questions. But I am thankful for those brief moments that we almost missed!

And then it was time to crack the books.
Something we look forward to every year!

My but time does fly...



(What's the weather like at your house??)
The new watercolors seemed to be the most captivating thing we did the first week of school. It's fun to be creative with bright new colors... And so this short little activity turned into a long activity, and that's just the beauty of it!

We have times throughout the day for "read alouds", and I think our favorite so far is Winnie the Pooh. Who doesn't love the Silly Old Bear?  I think the funnest part for me has been not only that Sam is enjoying it, but also how much Joshua does. And it's different this time because Josh "gets" some of it now that of course he didn't when he was younger. One afternoon, he was doing the reading. One little funny thing turned into another and another and pretty soon he was doubled over and could barely get the words out. And this made me laugh because it was so funny to see him think this particular chapter was so funny. I'll share the part that was our good medicine for the day. It is from chapter lV titled 'In Which Eeyore Loses a Tail and Pooh Finds One':
       Owl lived at The Chestnuts, an old-world residence of great charm, which was grander than anybody else's, or seemed so to Bear, because it had both a knocker and a bell-pull. Underneath the knocker there was a notice which said:
          PLES RING IF AN RNSER IS REQIRD
     Underneath the bell-pull there was a notice which said:
          PLEZ CNOKE IF AN RNSR IS NOT REQID.
     These notices had been written by Christopher Robin, who was the only one in the Forest who could spell; for Owl, wise though he was in many ways, able to read and write and spell his own name WOL, yet somehow went all to pieces over delicate words like MEASLES and BUTTEREDTOAST.
     Winnie the Pooh read the two notices very carefully, first from left to right, and afterwards, in case he had missed some of it, from right to left.  Then, to make quite sure, he knocked and pulled the knocker, and he pulled and knocked the bell-rope, and he called out in a very loud voice, "Owl! I require an answer! It's Bear speaking." (they have a bit of conversation, and then...)
     "Well," said Owl, "the customary procedure in such cases is as follows."
     "What does Crustimoney Proseedcake mean?" said Pooh. "For I am a Bear of Very Little Brain, and long words Bother me."
     "It means the Thing to Do."
     "As long as it means that, I don't mind," said Pooh humbly.
And it snowballed from there. Fits of laughter. So good for the body and soul!!
 We have conversations about Heffalumps and Woozles, and "Tut-tut, looks like rain". It's all one big smile from beginning to end.
It's my favorite thing, the "couch" time when we all squeeze in close for a good read.

And it's nice that Joshua likes to read aloud. As a matter of fact, I rather think he likes it, looks forward to it--the sad parts when I choke up and have to relinquish the page. This does happen. And he takes over and reads like a champ.
And so begin these days.

Wishing you a beauty full fall!!

I Do

still love this man!!!

9,857++ yesterdays ago, (27 years) we stood before God and family and friends and promised to love each other forever. No matter what.  I hope we have at least that many tomorrows.

It all started the summer after 6th Grade. This kid with wavy blonde hair and a reckless sparkle in his green eyes wooed me across the churchyard lawn at vacation Bible school when he yelled "Red Rover, Red Rover! Send Tina right over!" I ran toward him. I know there were others holding hands tightly in that line, but I didn't see them. I fell across his arm and it held. I wonder if all the angels in heaven smiled knowingly at that moment, as if everything was going according to some divine plan.

Our first date was a little over a year later. (I know, so young!) I wasn't quite fourteen. Neither of us was old enough to drive so we had to double date with someone who could. It happens that Hubby's good older friend asked my cousin out, so we all went together. My dad was not at all happy about this arrangement. When my first date came nervously into the front entry that September evening,  he slammed the bedroom door so hard that all the pictures fell off the wall. Yikes.

The four of us rode together in Terry's tan/brown '68 Chevy pickup to a small local bowling alley. My cousin and I wore fresh curls in our permed hair and probably some extra-shiny lip gloss. I remember that my date smelled of Irish Spring soap and a heavy cologne,  wore his hair parted down the middle and white carpenter pants. It was 1980.

I had never been bowling in my life. My first date bowled on a league. I remember being so nervous. I think he was nervous, too. He confidently stepped out on the wooden alley floor, propped the bowling ball in his hands, and with his eye on the pins, swung the ball behind him. As he brought the ball forward, his foot slid over the line and a loud buzzer rang, the ball stuck momentarily to his thumb, went straight up in the air and landed with a loud thud. Whew. So that's how you do it! :o) My cousin had  nearly the same experience as she took her turn. When she brought the ball back, it fell from her hand and rolled backwards. My first attempt sent the ball straight to the gutter. I threw a gutter ball in every frame but two. That score sheet holds the first page of a scrapbook, titled "first date". My score was 31 and his was 102.  I don't remember a whole lot more about the rest of that first date, but I knew I was in love!!

A few years later when this hunky blonde got his driver's license, he bought a black Ranchero from my dad who owned a used car lot in town at the time. It didn't matter if we kept the windows up or down when driving  those country gravel roads because it was so rusted behind the seat that the dust rolled fiercely in behind us and filled the car anyway. My dad was beginning to like him now.

Young love comes with it's trials and heartaches, but my junior year of high school, I proudly wore his class ring wrapped in dark blue yarn and never took it off. When he left for tech school the fall of my senior year, he promised me we would be together and gave me a promise ring to remind me.

 Oh, most people said we were too young. We didn't listen. We were engaged at Christmas.

I graduated in May and we were married in August. My mom told me I better be good to him because if we ever divorced she would have a hard time choosing sides.

She won't have to. 

So married life is good. Our dates have changed. We don't have to worry about a driver but we do have to make arrangements with a babysitter. We don't go bowling as often but I still throw a good gutter-ball. I've lost the shiny lip gloss and Hubby lost his wavy locks.

We've been through our own ups and downs. Sunshine and rain. Skinny clothes and fat clothes.Sports cars and mini-vans. Old houses and new houses. That reckless sparkle isn't quite as reckless as it once was, but I do catch a glimpse now and then.

Happy Anniversary to my Hubby.
Happy Anniversary, Hon.

Pinch Me

You've heard it said when something seems too good to be true...
This is Sam.

Sam-I-Am.

That's what I call him.

And now he's five.
Already.

My Little-Hunter-Man-Samuel.

 He makes me smile.

Samuel was not always a part of our family plan. He came to us as a surprise package.  :o) 
I was just 40 and, well, being pregnant right then wasn't even on my radar.
But he was an answered prayer.
After Joshua, I really wanted to have more children. I didn't want Josh to be a lonely "caboose". I prayed hard for more, but, long story short is that the answer was "no". At least that's what I thought.

When the + sign that says "yes" appeared, our family life was a bit frayed. We were letting go of a lot of things.  But Samuel came, and he was something to hold on to. And I held him a lot. He was one of those babies that needed to be held all the time. And I was one of those mamas needing something to hold onto. So we held on to each other. I held him and he held me. Literally.
(Funny how right now as I am plucking out this little story, I hear Samuel singing as he goes down the stairs: "Our God is an awesome God, He reigns from Heaven above, with wisdom, power, and might. Our God is an awesome God" . How fitting.)

I would hold this little snuggle-bundle and while he was little and nursing, he would find my skin and roll it between his tiny chubby fingers. And squeeze. And pinch. And roll some more. Always holding on.
When we were not nursing anymore, he found my neck. His little hands would reach up and squeeze the skin on my neck. Roll and pinch.

And now, my little man, my Sam-I-Am, is five.
F I V E.

He's the present. He's the gift.
And I think he's too good to be true!!
And guess what? I don't even have to say "Pinch me", because he still does.
He brushes my hair away from my neck and finds me. Holds me.
Such a reminder every day of God's goodness. His faithfulness. His sovereignty.

So I will say it.
Pinch me.

So good and so true.

Pursuit and Passion :: A Living Education Retreat

Sometimes I can get myself stuck in the still and stagnant air of square boxes and grids and time-slot scheduling of school days. Even when it's pretty paper! I do know better, but when the days are slipping past too quickly, it's easy to default to a familiar groove. That's what was happening. I needed this fresh wind I had planned for myself since last spring!

 I spent most of this past weekend at Shalom Hill Farm, on the prairie of southwestern Minnesota, gathered with friends and like-minded moms and dads who have chosen the Charlotte-Mason- road- less- traveled way as a means of home educating their children. It was wonder- full.

I traveled with a good friend who lives too far away and we used up all of the oxygen in the car--going and coming-- just catching up on life. (Seems a shame to use "catching up" and "life" so close together in the same sentence.) We arrived in plenty of time, even after a small amount of driving the round-about way due to some road construction. There were no large mobs of people and lines at the registration table.  Instead, a smiling friendly face to welcome us. Our attention was drawn immediately to the simplicity and beauty of this place, both inside and out. Inside, photos of flowers wrapped in frames of twigs and embellished with verses on vellum paper. A science and nature journal display table. Quilts and bookshelves and comfortable furniture placed invitingly at each level. Our room with large windows to look out over these open spaces. Outside, buildings built into the slope of the land were hemmed in by shade trees and then-- there was the wide open rolling prairie. We made our way through the yard behind the retreat center, past the caretakers house to find the others who had arrived early, and ate a light meal of locally grown sweet corn and fruit while seated on a hay wagon near a camp fire. :o) Ahhhhh. 

   

We stretched our legs by taking a nice walk down the gravel road before gathering our things and settling in for the night.

We rose early so that we could begin the morning with prayer and reflection. We walked down the hill under an overcast, misty sky and joined the others at the observation deck. Nancy read from scripture, and she read poetry about gratitude being a "scattered and homeless love". So very beautiful. Read the words for yourself and see if you don't agree!  And she prayed as a rooster crowed and sheep grazed and a playful tiger-striped cat rubbed against our ankles. That's how the day began. And these were the very same things sprinkled throughout the days that made the whole retreat so restorational. So really living.

Jennifer Gagnon (pronounced gone-yo) came from Canada to speak life into our science and nature studies using Charlotte Mason's methods -- to encourage and enlighten and instruct us. It was obvious she had a passion for nature and a love for learning! She shared stories from her childhood experiences that shaped and inspired her to love the natural world around her; especially bees- an interest sparked because her long distance Grandmother had kept bees. Funny the influences one really does have, even as a Grandma! I thought fondly of one of my own grandmothers enjoying the birds outside her kitchen window and the white plastic bird bath she kept filled with water. And the other grandmother working and weeding in her beautiful flower gardens.

 And then there were the immersion groups. There were many living topics to choose from--that was the hardest part! Poetry? Composer study? Picture study? Hand crafts?? How to choose...I had sturdied myself and been brave enough to participate in a similar experience in North Carolina earlier this summer. I found then that I really enjoyed the poetry, so I made my choice to be a student in the poetry group. These are called immersion groups because it is here where the philosophies are put into practice and you participate as the student while an experienced CMer is the teacher. In this way you get to "see" your role as the teacher and then "know" (or not "know"!) the way your child does as the student. Yes, we were expected to narrate! Karla was a gracious, smiling teacher. She willingly shared some personal reflections from her journal written during a difficult time. Poetry had been a comfort to her. And she smiled. I would wish to show forth joy the way she does.

There was time for Q & A and discussion, for sharing ideas.

Cheri (and her five-week-new little boy bundle from heaven!) led an eager group of ladies into the great outdoors on a nature study. I had never heard of wood sorrell before. I ate some. It was good! And it was here that I knew for certain that I would never again leave out nature studies from our schedule. Why is it that something so simple and enjoyable and educational is so easily dismissed by a busy mother as either too great an indulgence or of too little value to spend our time with?? 

 The birds flitted overhead. The crickets chirped below. The breeze blew in our hair. It was divine. It was Divine.

The two days were full but not stuffed. The time passed by but not too quickly.

So now I am back at home and quickly into the swing of our busy lives.

But settled. Trusting. Having a fresh appreciation for the living world. A better idea of what it looks like to include nature studies and living books in the sciences as part of our school curriculum. Eager to begin a new school year that is filled with living ideas. As one of the moms so wisely stated, we are not educating only toward college, but toward LIFE.

A whole life. One to be pursued with passion.