The View From Here

This is a moment for sharing , inspired by SouleMama's "This Moment".  In her words,  "A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember."  To play along go to the SouleMama blog.

photo by Kale

Ice Discovery

Last week on our wild weather day Kale found a chunk of ice in the yard.  

"What's this?" he asked mischievously--dimple deep and eyes gleaming.  

It was a jagged triangular chunk, so I could only imagine it must look to him like either a vehicle, or a weapon.  "Nevada" I guessed.  

"Nope" its ice, for our nature table." (geesh mom).   

me:   "What do you think will happen if you put it inside on our nature table?"  

K:  "Its not going to melt, because its not snow".  

We put it in a plastic container just in case.  

 

 

 

 

Well, it melted.  

Sometime later that afternoon Kale discovered the puddle in his container and joyfully announced, 

"It did melt!".  He didn't mind being wrong.  He didn't say he'd known it would melt all along (though I suspect he did know) He was thrilled with his new discovery.  

I think we could all learn a little lesson in humility from preschoolers. 

Earlier this week we were ice skating on the rink in town and Kale said, 

"Mama, ice is just like a big ice cube."

Me:  "Yeah, it is just like  a big ice cube". 

K:  "Yeah, but Mama, its really water you know."  

Have I mentioned how much I love this kid? 

   

One day last week

Last Wednesday in Maine it poured.  It was 50 degrees warmer than it had been two days before, and the snow disappeared overnight.  Thursday morning we awoke to 50 mph wind gusts that felt magical.  The energy in the air was contagious and we stood on the front porch at 7 am in our pajamas watching the clouds whip across the sky, and the trees bending from their hips.  I moved the car way from one suspicious looking subject (still standing, though not for long).   Five minutes later the power went out.  

 

 

 

I love how quiet everything is when the power is out.  All of the white noise from the overhead fan on the stairs, the refrigerator, the lights--its all gone.  The only sound, other than the children, was the wind.  We made a few trips to the stream for buckets of water for toilet flushing.  We let the chickens out.  We very nearly got hit by this huge branch falling in our yard.  After that we decided no one was allowed off the porch until the wind quieted.   We lost several branches, a few small trees, and one big white cedar that we are sad to see gone, split in half about 20 ft. up.
Some of us were thrilled to wear vests in place of snowsuits and running shorts with red boots.  Why not?

 

 

We checked out the muddy sand box, and got out the kids' bikes to tour the neighborhood for damage.
We had leftovers for lunch and ice cream that was threatening to melt in our freezer.    

  

It was a strange day for January.  There is something magical and wild in a wind like that, and in a day so drastically different from the season.   It was a welcome change to the single digits from just days before, but also a quiet reminder of the shifts in the weather we've been noticing over the past few years.  Its both beautiful and concerning.
It is cold again this week, but the bare ground and blue sky seem distinctly summer-like if you look past the leafless trees.  I'm feeling a little unsettled by it all.  The hope I feel when I watch my children as they grow, and the sense of defeat I feel when I think of the world we're leaving for their children is hard to reconcile.  
Its fine to recycle and drive less, but in the face of tornadoes in New Englad and shorts in January it can be discouraging.
In the meantime I'll do my best to "be the change I want to see in the world", and enjoy these summer like days as gifts--and move the car as often as necessary to avoid the falling trees.  

Sun

 

  

  

 

 

With the help of plenty of cord wood, a well insulated house, and the brilliance of January sun we sailed through that cold spell and have come out nicely on the other side.  I know from winters past that this honeymoon of January will soon be over, and we'll come into February--both the shortest and somehow always the longest month of the year.  If you've ever heard Dar Williams' "February" you know what February is like in New England.  If only the month were as lovely as the song.  

I've taken a bit of wisdom from  SouleMama who mentioned at one time or another the trick of hiding away little surprises for those dreary February days.  I've been sneaking away just a few small things for my children, ready to pull out mid-month or whenever we're all feeling like we want to pull out our hair if we have to look at muddy snow (or muddy dirt, or negative temps, fill in the blank with your winter drudgery of choice) another minute longer.  Some things/ideas to invite imagination and spark some creativity.

But for now, we're excited that the temperature is nearly normal (its actually a bit too warm now!).  We're happy to skate again and hoping to ski soon.  And we're enjoying this winter sun as it slices its way into our home.   

Dang its cold!

Man its cold out there.  Today saw a high of about 10F with wind-chill, and and an overnight low of -10F predicted.  Its supposed to be even colder tomorrow.  I've been thinking about the trailers we pass on our way into town, and the old Maine farmhouses out in the open fields.  I hope this cold snap finds everyone safe on the other side. 

These cold days are crisp and clear with a pale sky that looks higher and thinner than I've ever noticed.  But, while outside it is biting cold, inside our house the sun slices through the windows at a slighter higher angle each day and even the kitten knows to follow its slanting warmth.  Between hauling wood and feeding the fire we pretty much kept inside today.  Just after noon we all busted out for about 15 frigid minutes when the sun was the highest, then hurried back inside for brownies, naturally.  When its this cold we bake.  Brownies, bread, granola (both gluten free and glutinous).  

Also plenty of impromptu art projects.  Kale has been cutting up any paper he can get his hands on, and leaving a trail of paper scattered across most of the surfaces in the house and much of the floor.  If you come to our house you're likely to receive a small pile of paper "cards" from him to take home with you.  Be sure to ask how old he is, its important these days.  "I'm three, but I'm nearly ten".  

Wylie decided to make a few counting cards for Kale (to my dismay he stopped hand-crafting after 1 and switched to computer graphics). 

Inspired by this book, as well as some reading we've been doing on Leonardo  DeVinci, we've been keeping nature journals, doing our best to make an entry every few days at least.  I'm trying to just model rather than suggest what they do--though "Nature Connections" has several activities for keeping journals.  So far I'm not super impressed with the book as a homeschool resource, but I haven't given it a fair chance yet.  I'll let you know if I change my mind and decide I love it.  What I do love are these sweet words and drawings my kids have been inspired to do, as well as a chance to focus my love of art and nature on something all my own.  

  

 

 

Also, as always lots of block play, playmobile, and Legos, Legos, Legos... 

(stop it mom)

We rounded out the day with a viewing of "The Princess Bride" which was meant as a distraction while I prepared dinner, but ended up with me watching the whole thing--and dinner an hour later than planned.  

I'd forgotten how funny it is! but also how violent (oops).  But all in the name of true love!  

So, for now we're good with frigid.  Check back in a few days and I'll let you know if we're climbing the walls.  

Stitches

Sometimes you see it coming before it happens, and despite what you know you are powerless to stop it.  This wasn't like that.  Somehow, despite all of my years of watching children fall, despite all these years of living on concrete I didn't anticipate the inevitable:  when your child's hands and feet are bound (handcuff style, with plastic Hawaiian leis no less) and she is doing her best to wobble her way free from the preschool-age policeman in hot pursuit, she will fall.  It was dull thud.  Not the smack of flesh on smooth surface, but the dull ache of bone on stone.  Instantly I was hauling her up (bound as she was) and the blood was immediately apparent.  Teeth or chin? Chin or teeth?  It is a question I've asked so many times over the years while holding and rocking, containing blood, applying ice, waiting for a bit of calm to assess the injury.  Saying the silent "please let it be chin" prayer.

It was.  A little half inch split right on the smooth skin stretched taught across her sweet little chin.  Half and inch, yet somehow a gaping, bloody, a ragged wound on my girl.  I knew it meant stitches.  And so we sat.  Blood smeared on my hands, on the floor around us, neat little red blotches on her pink leotard and tights.  I held the ice and stroked her brow.  I took deep breaths and tried to will away the throbbing in my ears and sweating.  I am not a fan of blood.  Wylie hid upstairs (he is really not a fan of blood).  Kale was being as helpful as he could:  fetching the phone to call Papa, retrieving ice from the freezer, taking out the lap top for a bit of media therapy.  It was quite a little scene.

After a short trip to the ER with Rob she was home, stitched, band aided, and nearly as good as new.  At bedtime I showed her my scar from stitches as a kid, and Rob showed her the scar on his knee.  She's a little sore, a little embarrassed, a little bit proud.  She's got a new story to tell.   My mother has always reminded us, "what doesn't kill you will make you stronger".  I'm not convinced that's always the case, but wiser maybe. They won't be playing cops and robbers with hand cuffs again.

Homeschool Thursday: On their own

Our week is filled with piano lessons, swimming, yoga, and homeschool group, as well as any play dates with friends, trips to the library, book clubs and grocery shopping that needs to be done.  The kids have daily chores as well as a few weekly "have to's"--school work including some math practice, handwriting, reading, and history to be completed in the course of the week.  Before, after, and in-between (and sometimes in place of) all of this they settle into games or projects of their own.  As I've mentioned before, we tend to follow a sort of  tidal rhythm with our schooling, at times being more intentional with our studies, and other times being more relaxed in our approach.    

A few days ago a friend was telling me about the language in one African region where the words for work and play are the same.  That is such a powerful thought, and I've been trying to imagine our society functioning with that mindset.  With adults headed out to "play" as they commute to offices etc.  Though I suspect that those who find their work among animals, working the soil, or learning with children understand this view point a bit more clearly.  Children know instinctively that work is play, and play is work, and most of the time when we stay out of the way its what they do on their own that is most valuable.

However, I tend to notice that having the regular practice of handwriting, for instance, makes my children more confident and comfortable in their writing.  When we are in a regular routine of doing copy work, they are more apt to add writing into their play spontaneously.   Basic understanding of math concepts, as well as the mastery to solve simple problems as they arise lead to invented games involving math, as well as the ability to play board games and card games independently.  And so I tread carefully.  Respecting their play as work, but also encouraging work as play.  Most of the time this feels just right.

Igloo

Kale and the snow chicken 

Juni's homemade paper dolls

Robotic Legos

Negotiating rules to an invented board game