Today was a very full day. There was storytime at the library in the morning with Luke, and then after lunch Seth and I drove into Boston to spend the afternoon comparing ancient sculptures at the Museum of Fine Arts. We've taken three trips to the museum this semester, and every time it has rained. I'm glad to be home now with a steaming hot cup of tea, and my book and knitting beside me :- )
A couple of weeks ago I saw this quote on Kortney's blog, which led me to The Illumined Heart, by Frederica Mathewes-Green. What a wise, beautiful, encouraging and insightful little book for those who desire a deeper understanding of the ancient path of Christianity. I liked it so much that I put several of Mathewes-Green's books in my queue at the library. Today I started reading, The Lost Gospel of Mary: The Mother of Jesus in Three Ancient Texts, in preparation for Advent.
I haven't been knitting too much because of the pain in my hand, but of course, I must knit a little :- ) I'm making s l o w progress on my Tea Leaves Cardi. I'd say I'm about three quarters through the body. Yesterday I put it aside so that I could begin knitting caps for the troops. This is a project that I am working on in conjunction with my church group, The Friends of St. Anthony. Once a month the Friends volunteer time to pack care packages with HOTS (Helping Our Troops). It's cold in Afghanistan this time of year, and the troops need wool knit caps to keep their heads warm, even under their helmets. HOTS provided the pattern, a very simple stockinette hat with three tows of 1 x 1 ribbing around the edge. I'm using Plymouth Select Worsted Merino Superwash color #12. I hope to complete a hat every other day. I'm experimenting with different ways to hold my needles to help alleviate my hand pain (and I'm being very mindful about keeping my hands loose). Do any of you knitters have some helpful tips?
“We need to find God, and he cannot be found in noise and restlessness. God is the friend of silence. See how nature - trees, flowers, grass- grows in silence; see the stars, the moon and the sun, how they move in silence… We need silence to be able to touch souls.” ~ Mother Teresa
This morning we sat quietly in the kitchen after putting peanuts out on the deck, and waited for our furry friends to come: one, two, three! This one is the littlest and the boldest. He hasn't yet learned that there is much to fear in a suburban neighborhood. He comes right up to the glass door, even with our big black dog on this side wagging his tail and smiling and wishing to play chase.
The smallest, quietest moments are often the happiest.
"The bread you do not use is the bread of the hungry. The garment hanging in your wardrobe is the garment of the person who is naked. The shoes you do not wear are the shoes of the one who is barefoot. The money you keep locked away is the money of the poor," said St. Basil the Great. St. Ambrose agreed: "There is your brother, naked and crying! And you stand confused over the choice of an attractive floor covering."
p. 89 from, The Illumined Heart: The Ancient Christian Path of Transformation, by Frederica Mathewes Green
Right now I'm trying to take each day as it comes and be thankful for it's work and for it's bread. I'm trying to be a good steward of my time each day, seeing every minute as a gift, an opportunity to serve and love, which has made me more productive and cheerful. I am trying to abide in Christ the only way we can: moment-by-moment, day-by-day. If I look ahead I lose all perspective. Joy is in the moments: the baby's eyelashes, the toddler's happy song, dust motes sparkling in a sunbeam, the smell of good things cooking and baking, the feel of wool between my fingers, companionship and laughter while playing a board game, cold cheeks while walking in the woods, the homey smell of wood smoke from my neighbor's chimney, the warm feeling of helping a friend...
Progress on my Tea Leaves Cardigan has s l o w e d this week due to pain in my right hand. The large joint at the base of my thumb is really sore and my entire hand is weak. I have a regualr physical scheduled on Friday, so I'm going to mention it to my doctor. I hope it's not arthritis :- (
Since I can't knit (much), I've been reading more. I'm thoroughly enjoying Miss Read's Fairacre series. I'm also readingMy Life With the Saints, which is excellent--very engaging.
I'm also enjoying walks in the woods. Last weekend's snowstorm (all melted now) gave me a sense of urgency to get out there before the woods fill up with snow.
Skogskyrkogården Sweden on All Saints' Day Photo: Michael Cavén/Flickr
Gradually I found myself growing fonder of these saints and developing a tenderness toward them. I began to see them as models of holiness relevant to contemporary believers, and to understand the remarkable ways that God works in the lives of individuals. Each saint was holy in his or her unique way, revealing how God celebrates individuality. As C.S. Lewis writes in Mere Christianity: "How monotonously alike all the great tyrants and conquerers have been: how gloriously different are the saints."
~James Martin, SJ, My Life With the Saints p.6
Today is All Hallows Day (or as we call it in the United States, All Saints Day). Tonight, Christians throughout Europe will leave candles and flowers in cemeteries to honor all the saints of Christ, both known and unknown. I have heard that in Poland the cemeteries are lit up with thousands and thousands of candles. Can you imagine what a holy light it must be? I think it is a beautiful tradition.
Last night, I was getting ready to serve supper (which was chicken and gnocchi with butternut squash), when I noticed that it was snowing out. A couple of hours later, at 8:30 pm the power went out. Since I have spent the last few days cleaning out the basement, I knew just where the candles were: the lowest shelf, right at the bottom of the stairs. I carefully felt my way down into the deep darkness, sat on the cold cement floor with a box of kitchen matches on my lap and lit candles. My older children came down the stairs one by one to carry them up. I am always surprised by how much light one little candle gives.
Photo by my son Seth
At first, it was exciting and fun to sit in the candlelight together But, after two, and then three hours, we began to worry about the fish. We were right to be concerned. Around 11 o'clock, Big Joe jumped out of the tank and onto the floor! (A six feet drop.) Zachary thinks he needed oxygen. The rescue effort was stressful and intense. At one point his fins were caught in the net. He is a gold-spot rabbit fish with poisonous dorsal spines, so it was challenging to get him back into the tank and untangled from the net without getting stung, which would have required a trip to the emergency room.
This is Big Joe :-)
The power came back on at 12:45 am.
This morning there were about four inches of heavy wet snow on the ground. We were sad to see so many trees down on our street. One after another of them were badly damaged or completely felled like this one. They are all young trees, about twelve years old and twenty-five feet tall.
I made waffles for breakfast this morning, brushed off the car, shoveled the drive, and went to Mass. In the afternoon, we had a pumpkin carving party.
But, outside it looks more like Christmas than Halloween!
One :: The first snow of the season happened last night. It was thrilling, wild, and lovely--and, a little frightening; it's so early. Since such things have been recorded in Boston, it has only snowed in October four other times. Thankfully it was just a dusting :-)
Two :: I am cleaning out my basement. There are seven people in my house, and it's the place where things land when people think they still want something, but they don't want it now. I've been at the job for two days, and I'm not done yet. There are spiders down there. And centipedes. :-0
Three :: Tea and cake are nice.
Four :: I wish that the yarn I chose for my Tea Leaves Cardigan was not such a dark shade. It is really difficult to see the pretty yoke details. However, I do love the yarn and the color. It's darkest plum with lovely tweedy speckles throughout. The rows in the yoke are l o n g. I can't wait to separate the sleeves tonight.
Five :: Bunnies make great pets. Our English Lop is gentle, affectionate, funny, and sweet. I wish that I hadn't hesitated so long to get a rabbit. I had heard nothing but bad things about them: they are stupid and bite and scratch. Lies.
Six :: I picked up Village School by Miss Read at the library this week after being reminded of Miss Read's books by Kyrie in her lovely blog series on the ordinary arts. I want to read the whole Fairacre series this winter.
Seven :: Is there anything better than a bowl of hot, buttery popcorn with a steaming cup of hot chocolate while watching a favorite television show?
My daughter A made this creepy, chocolatey, Halloween cake today. Yum!
Yesterday it was clear and crisp, the perfect day for an autumn leaf walk and a bit of history at The Old North Bridge in Concord. This old wooden bridge is the place where the "shot heard 'round the world" was fired.
There were old trees there that were surely standing during the colonial period. Perhaps colonial children climbed them, too.
Near the bridge a couple stood together hand-in-hand while a minister read them their vows. They were getting married! Their wedding clothes were woolen coats, scarves, and boots. They had no witnesses or guests other than the ducks and geese, the chipmunks, the trees and sky. And, those of us who were also out enjoying the day. The couple looked very happy. My children and I thought it was a very beautiful wedding.
At home we ironed the leaves we collected between sheets of waxed paper and cut them out to hang on the windows.
Some days are so golden-bright, that I feel powerfully and completely connected to God, man, and nature; all that is, and all that ever was.
I will try this day to live a simple, sincere, and serene life, repelling promptly every thought of discontent, anxiety, discouragement, impurity, and self-seeking; cultivating cheerfulness, magnanimity, charity, and the habit of holy silence; exercising economy in expenditure, generosity in giving, carefulness in conversation, diligence in appointed service, fidelity to every trust, and a childlike faith in God.
In particular I will try to be faithful in those habits of prayer, work, study, physical exercise, eating and sleep which I believe the Holy Spirit has shown me to be right.
And as I cannot in my own strength do this, nor even with a hope of success attempt it, I look to thee, O Lord God my Father, in Jesus my Savior, and ask for the gift of the Holy Spirit. Amen
(From Forward Day By Day, a booklet of daily Bible readings and devotions published by the Episcopal Church).
One:: A golden October day playing chase in a corn maze, picking pumpkins, and buying mums to decorate the front of our house.
Two:: Eight balls of Silk Road yarn, by Jo Sharp, color Emporio, and a pattern called Tea Leaves, by Melissa LaBarre for Madelinetosh.
Three:: Waking up in the early morning while it is still pitch dark, and seeing the quarter moon hanging brightly outside my window.
Four:: Two children who won't use the upstairs bathroom because of the "lady monster".
Five:: A very sweet bunny who makes us laugh and smile.
Six:: Reading bedtime stories that feature the Big Bad Wolf, who frightens us and makes us laugh both at the same time.
Seven: Making and playing with playdough on a rainy day.
Kool-aid Playdough Recipe
1 1/4 cups flour
1/2 cup salt
1/2 Tablespoon Cream of Tartar
1 1/2 Tablesppons oil
1 cups boiling water
1 packet unsweetened Kool-aid
Mix first three ingredients together. Add oil. Mix Kool-aid and water. Add to dry ingredients and mix well. When cool, knead with hands until smooth. Store in air-tight container.
or Geo, Cookies, Flopsy, or Bugsy. We can't decide on a name. We've just been calling our new bunny whatever name pops into our head at the moment :- )
We got her last Sunday when she was just eight weeks old. She will be a "house bunny", which means that she is not caged--although, she does have a cage. Her cage is her den, and the door is always open (well, almost always. We confine her when we go to bed and when we leave the house; this is for her safety). She learned to use her litter pan in only three days. No accidents since then. We are keeping her confined to the kitchen for now, which is the most bunny proof room in our house. Today, we had to trim her nails, which went pretty well considering that both she and I were terrified.
Her fur is very soft.
Her nose is very twitchy.
Her ears are very long.
I've always wanted a bunny.
(Just thought I'd say that :-)
Ever since reading The Call, by Yannick Murphy this summer, I haven't been able to stop thinking about bunnies. She made them some sound so sweet and appealing.
Here is a 15 second video that I took of her nibbling on one of her toys the day after we brought her home.
It has been a very full week--so full that I haven't had any time to write a blog post or do much laundry (there is a mountainous pile to be done). I do have a few happy things to report:
The Whipporwill Shawl is off the needles. I just need to weave in the ends and block it (why do I always put off these tasks?)
My son has received a volunteer position at The New England Aquarium--the only 16 year old this fall!
I'm on book #3 of the Nell Sweeney mystery series.
We have a new pet bunny. She's an 8 week old English Lop (these are the bunnies with the really l o n g ears that drag on the ground--adorable!)
Okay, let's talk about that last point :- ). I really hope that some of my readers will consider taking a peek at "The Harp". There are some great poems and stories to read there. Sarah and I would love to get more people writing and particpating. It's all just forfun--completely judgment free. Take a look at the current prompt and just let your brain play with it. You can write anything, in any format, any style, any genre. (Kids can participate, too!) Email it to Sarah or me, and we will put it up on the site. It's that simple. Why not give creative writing a try?
This afternoon, when I should have been vacuuming, I wrote a little story for the new prompt. A few days ago, another internet friend submitted a story for Prompt #4 (it's perfectly fine to write something for any prompt that grabs your attention--you don't have to stick to the current one).
I'm in the final section of the Whipporwil shawl for my daughter. This has been such a fun knit, and much quicker than I thought it would be. Hopefully it will be blocked and ready to photograph next week.
My friend Annie sent me a book of short stories called, Lucy's Eggs, which I am enjoying. And, I started the second book in P.B. Ryan's Nell Sweeney series. This one is called, Murder In a MIll Town. One of the things that I find annoying about reading series books is the inevitable re-cap of past events and characters at the beginning of each book. I wonder if the authors think that it's important, or if it's something that publishers require them to do in an attempt to make each book stand-alone. It really destroys the pacing of the story. But, I love Nell Sweeney's character and the setting of this series enough to suffer through the re-caps.
Today our power was out for almost two hours, which sent us rushing off to the nearest pet shop to find a battery powered air pump for Z's fish aquariums. He said that if the power was off for much longer than two hours the fish would die. Unfortunately, the pet shop's electicity was out, too. The traffic lights were also out, making driving quite hazardous. Happily, by the time we got back home the power had been restored, and there were no fatalities, human or aquatic.
I spent the morning editing a story for a friend who is taking a univeristy fiction class. She and I grew up next door to one another, and the story was based on her memories of when her childhood home burned down. I was three years old when it happened, and she was five, yet we both have pretty vivid recollections of it. I remember being woken up in the middle of the night, the sky flickering orange-bright, casting weird shadows on the walls of my bedroom, my father's strong arms lifing me. I remember the fire engines filling our narrow lane, how loud they were, and how big. My family went across the street to my uncle's house. My aunt made me hot chocolate and toast. My cousin Judy was asleep upstairs and couldn't play with me; I was disappointed. I was wearing a pink blanket sleeper. It had lost it's softness and was covered in pills. When I read my friend's story of her memories of the fire, I cried. There were things that I had forgotten, like how her sister had to jump from a second story window and broke her leg, and that her asthmatic brother was hospitalized with smoke inhalation. Her family had to live in a rented house for almost a full year while their house was being re-built. I had forgotten all that. It's funny, the things you recall, and the things that you don't.
Today was the first sunny day of the week. I'm still waiting for the trees to burst into color. It seems late to me. I did see a large V of Canada Geese high in the sky this afternoon, heading south for the winter. Does the fall foliage seem to be on schedule where you live?
This red-tailed hawk has been hanging around our yard playing hide and seek with the chickens. Luckily, our dog has kept him from coming too close, but I know that he is a real threat. I don't want to lose any of our hens now that they are all good layers.
For the past week, every evening after supper when the dishes are washed and put away, we turn off all of the lights in the house except for the one over the kitchen sink, and our whole family plays hide and seek. The rule is that you can hide anywhere you want on the first and second floors (the basement, garage, and attic are off limits). It is the most fun I've had in a long while--I feel just like a little kid. It's quite thrilling to hide in the dark and search for new hiding places. We play until everyone has had a turn being the seeker. In my family that's seven rounds :- )
Sometimes I find myself researching odd bits of things, which often find their way into the stories I write. Currently, I've been interested in chatelaines.
Chatelaine is French for, "Mistress of the castle".
In the 18th and 19th centuries, women in charge of their estates wore a decorative clip of long chains holding important household items about the waist. These items were things like the key to a pantry where valuable tea, spices and food were kept; a small notebook; sewing items; a magnifying glass; or maybe a watch, nail file, or compass. The earlier waist-hung items were referred to as "equipage", later evolving to "chatelaine" in the early1800s
The chatelaine, while still having the useful purpose of organizing the household, also became a fashion accessory that was often given as a wedding present from a husband to his bride. Sewing and needlework were an important part of a young girl's education and these accessories were ideal in organizing notions. Chatelaines were made of silver, brass, steel, leather, or fabric, depending on the financial status of the household. There was a decorative clip that attached to the waistband with three to seven long chains with clasps suspended from it. If you've seen "The Others" with Nicole Kidman, she is wearing one.
Chatelaines were also called "necessaires".
Isn't this Victorian drawing by John Leech 1886, entitled, "How to Make a Chatelaine A Real Blessing to Mothers", both humorous and charming?
Here is a (rather creepy) photograph of two Victorian ladies wearing chatelaine style purses at the waist:
I find this ribbon brooch style chatelaine appealing:
One: I went out looking for my daughter’s cat this morning, as he didn’t come home last night. I found him dead on the side of a road not far from where we live. He was a beautiful, affectionate cat, only three years old. Three of our four cats died this year. I wish that we had never let any of them outdoors, even though cats love being outside.
Two: I downloaded Murder in a Mill Town last night, because I finishedStill Life With Murder, and loved it so, but, I forgot that I borrowed This Life Is In Your Hands from the library. It’s a memoir about a family who were followers of the Nearings (that famous back-to-the-land couple). I know that this book tells a tragic story, and I’m not sure that I’m up to reading it right now, so I might just send it back to the library. However, I did love this passage on p.4 of the Prologue:
Three: “We lay in the shade under the ash tree, gazing up at the crown of leaves and listening to the sounds of the farm--birds calling, goats bleating, chattering of customers at the farm stand, and whispers of tree talk.
“When you focused on the leaves fluttering in the dappled light, they vibrated and shimmered into one, becoming a million tiny particles. You felt a shift inside, and you began to vibrate too, on the same frequency as everything else. All secrets were there, all truths, all knowledge. You had to scan with your heart to find what you were seeking. It might not be spoken in words, it might be hidden in rhyme, in song, in images. You knew the tree and the earth were the same as you, made of particles like you, come together in a different form. You loved it all as you loved yourself.” Oh, yes. Amen.
Four: There are 20 eggs in my refrigerator right now, all from our chickens. Tonight I’m going to make omelets, acorn squash, and toast for supper.
Five: My best friends are my children. I’ve been burnt pretty badly by friendships I’ve had as an adult with other women. I'm a lot more careful now about friendships.
Six: I’m glad it’s autumn. The days are really getting shorter now, which I love, since I am an owl by nature and enjoy long evenings.
Seven: One of my favorite scenes from one of my all-time favorite movies:
Last weekend my family was out-of-town for my nephew's wedding. My two older sons were groomsmen, and they were so handsome in their tuxedos. The wedding was lovely, but when we got back home we all came down with colds. This week has been full of laundry, bills, sniffley kids, and a few appointments. One of them was for a new haircut for me. I let my stylist have her way with me, and she went really short, the shortest my hair has ever been. It's a change, but I think I like it. There's something about having really short hair that is kind of liberating.
Goodreads now offers recommendations for what to read next, based on the books that you've read and reviewed. One of their recommendations for me was P.B. Ryan's, Still Life With Murder, which is out of print, but available as an eBook. I think Kindle offers it for free; I paid 99 cents from Kobo. All I can say is: Wow. What a story--what characters! Still Life With Murderis a mystery set in Boston in 1868. It is rich in historical detail, yet compellingly vivid. I really like P.B. Ryan's straight-forward storytelling style and multi-faceted characters. This is one of the most entertaining books that I've read this year. I will definitely be reading more from P.B. Ryan.
The whipporwil shawl is coming along nicely. I didn't bring it with me on our our weekend trip, as I knew that I would be too busy visiting with family to knit, but this week I'm making good progress on 'section two". I just started working the second band of contrasting color. I think it's going to look really cool when it's finished.
I've almost finished 'section one' of the Whipporwil Shawl. It doesn't look like much yet, but I am really enjoying the knitting process. The shawl began with just five stitches and now has three hundred nineteen. I can't wait to start 'section two", which will begin the wavy eyelet rows of contrasting color.
I've been reading The Return of Captain John Emmett for a long time (about a month) now. It's a well-written mystery set in post WWI England. I love the setting, and would like to read more novels set in this time period, however, the story is uneventful and not very engaging. After reading more than 300 pages, the main character is still an enigma to me. I kept thinking that as the story progressed I would get to know more about him and his life before the war. That never happened, and so I don't feel a strong reader-connection to him. He has a love interest, and that subplot was handled very awkwardly by the author, who is a historian. I wish that I could recommend this book, because it is well-written from a mechanical and stylistic perspective, and it is very well researched. However, the story itself has a very dry, forensic feel to it, and the mystery is just not all that interesting.
I found the following link on my friend Brandy's list of "September Clicks" (she has some goodies!). This one was by far my favorite. I may put it up on my sidebar and keep it there forever :- ) I think it applies to everyone, not just girls: Waking Up Full of Awesome My own "full of awesome" five year old (wearing his sister's pajama bottoms as a cape :- ).
Some people in my life wonder why I chose to homeschool my children. Afterall, I graduated with a degree in education from one of the top fifty universities in the United States. There are many reasons, actually, but it all boils down to this: I want my children to grow up whole and to understand that learning is just what humans do. It is our nature. You don't need a classroom or a desk or special materials in order to do it (although a library card is pretty useful). But, you do need to feel safe to explore, and you need to have the confidence to pursue your curiosity.
Sometimes my own confidence wanes, and I wonder what the heck I am doing with my kids. Does homeschooling make sense? Are my children "missing out" on something important and wonderful by not going to school? Would they be kinder, smarter, and more well-rounded if they had school experience? Then I read an article like The Heartbreaking Point, and my confidence in homeschooling swiftly returns. This is L's "kindergarten" year. I am so glad that we will be spending it at home together (and in the woods; at the beach; in the garden; at the library, the Museum of Science, the New England Aquarium, the Museum of Fine Arts, the Worcester Armory, Hammond Castle, Drumlin Farm....etc.)
Five years old is so very young, and childhood is very short. It really is heartbreaking when you think about how many five year olds spend all day in school sitting, listening to the teacher, and doing worksheets. I think that it is worth mentioning that the author of that short article lives in a very affluent community. The Marblehead school district is highly rated; their high school is ranked 23rd out of 308 in the state.
I found myself at land's end. It was 55 F degrees--invigorating!
We ate our picnic lunch on a sunny, flat outcropping of granite sheltered by dunes, where it was less windy. We had the entire beach to ourselves. It was heavenly. A lovely, peaceful ending to a stressful week.
If you go out in the woods today, you'd better not go alone. It's lovely out in the woods today, but better to stay at home. Beneath the trees wear nobody sees...is a beary w i ld animal!
Pattern: Baby Bear, from Susan B. Anderson's, Itty Bitty Toys (I love this book!). Knit with some Noro Kureyon sock yarn from my stash (colorway S184).
The trees have shed their leaves and gone to sleep. Did you know that a mature oak tree can have over 200,000 leaves? There is a row of tall old trees bordering our yard: maple, oak and beech. It was a wonderful thing to rake up and jump in the leaves.
We prepared a small area in our back yard for a teeny tiny vegetable garden next year, by sheet mulching. The layers I put down were: manure, dry leaves from raking, sand from L's sandbox, night crawlers left over from summer fishing trips (they were still alive and wiggling!), rolled corrugated cardboard, and a good layer of rotted straw. If I am happy with the results, then next year I plan on sheet mulching a much larger area. My teeny tiny garden is just 60 sq. feet (5x12). But, wait 'til you see how much produce I get from it--I have been very successful at small space gardening in the past. One of my favorite books on this topic, which is now sadly out of print is, The Postage Stamp Garden Book.
Tomorrow I will be in the kitchen baking and dressing the turkey for our Thanksgiving feast. November is a good month for this holiday. In November, as the landscape turns brown and barren and the first cold wind begins to blow, it is easy for me to forget the good things...my mind is too easily drawn to all that I have lost rather than all that I have, and I have soooo much: five children who bless me everyday, books on my shelf, knitting in my basket, nutritious food, a strong body, candles to light, music to sing and dance to, hot water, a car that runs, a new haircut (I went and had my long hair cut short today! I'll try and post pics tomorrow ;-), appliances that lighten my work, beautiful woods to walk in, new boots, Love that will not let me go...why, I could write a list a mile long :- )
I like cemeteries (I know it's weird). Since I was a little girl, I've been fascinated by burial grounds. I've written about this before: at the end of our street there was a "park" that all of us children used to play in, and eat picnic lunches, and collect shiny horse chestnuts in the fall. This park was really the old First Ward Cemetery, and it was one of my favorite places. If you searched, you could still find a few very old grave markers lying flat in the grass. When I was a little girl, I used to wonder about those long ago people.
I suppose it is because I played in a cemetery as a child, but I've never found them creepy or depressing. In fact, I find them to be peaceful places where time overlaps; past and present meet. My children and I love to walk through old cemeteries and read the headstones and wonder about the people whose lives they memorialize. Catholic cemeteries are especially beautiful, full of statues of the saints and copies of famous works of art, such as Michelangelo's pieta. They present a visual gospel.
Not far from the Bedford playground, tucked away down a little sidestreet behind a bank is The Old Bedford Burial Ground. Many of the graves pre-date the Revolutionary War. We walked among the old grey stones as the wind blew leaves down upon us like bright confetti. We wondered especially about the children who were buried in this small cemetery--there were so many of them:
It is sad to think about how hard life was in the past, and how many children died before they reached the age of 5 years. These babies, aged 4 and 1 died just 5 days apart in the year 1750, probably from some illness like the 'flu.
Did these children die of illness or accident? How did they spend their days? Did they go to a village school, or did they learn at home under the tutelage of their mother? Was this 15 year old youth considered an adult? Did he do adult work? Did he live at home with his parents, or did he apprentice with another family? What did he think about? What did he believe? Was he happy? These are the things that I want to know about the past--how ordinary people lived their lives.
This headstone was particularly beautiful. It memorialized two children who died two months apart, and an infant who died at birth a year earlier. The epithet reads: Two blooming youths cut down & fled,/ To regions of the silent dead/ There to remain beneath y ground/ 'Til the last trump begins to sound. The s's and f's are rendered the same, as they often were so long ago. These children, who died so young and so long ago, are not completely forgotten. We know they lived, and we are thinking about them still.
View from the center playground, Bedford, Massachusetts.
of the year. When we finish our lessons for the day, it is impossible not to rush outside and soak up the brightness of autumn before the dark, silent days of winter close-in. Lately, we've been making a circuit of playgrounds in neighboring towns, which has been great fun. Our favorite is the playground in Bedford center.
The other morning L and I watched out the kitchen window as a large flock of blackbirds (mostly grackles) descended upon our backyard. It was a breezy day, and the birds--hundreds of them--swirled about in the falling leaves. The air was filled with sound: the crackle of leaves and swush of wings, along with the chatter of hundreds of bird voices. It was a dazzling sight, one that L will remember.
Our little homeschool has settled into a very nice rhythm. The children are getting quite a lot accomplished, and are fairly happy in their studies. A new book that we are all pleased with this year is, The Human Odyssey: Pre-History Through the Middle Ages, published by K12. I have struggled with finding good history texts over the years, especially for World history. It is important to me that history is presented as it truly is: a mystery, in which the past is painstakingly pieced together clue-by-clue into an incomplete picture; that by its very nature the study of history is interpretive; that what we know about the past must be "revised" as new evidence is unearthed; and that history is the most exciting and worthwhile subject of study, encompassing every field from science, to art and literature, to religion--every endeavor of mankind. It is hard to find a text that treats history like that. The Human Odyssey does all of that and includes maps, charts, and photographs of artifacts, excerpts from folklore and literature, and first person accounts. I can tell you that I am learning right along with my kids.
At night, when everyone is in bed, I sometimes have a moment to knit a few rows or read. I've zipped through all of Kate Atkinson's Jackson Brodie mysteries (thank you for recommending them, Paula!), and I've read one of Sophie Hannah's thrillers, The Truth-Teller's Lie, which was a dark, but very engrossing read. Currently I am reading A.S. Byatt's Possession, which is a densely written novel about academia. I didn't know if I would like it at first, but it's growing on me.
And, my Wispy Cardi is finally almost finished. I just have 1.5 inches of ribbing to go, and then it will be ready to be blocked. Show and tell should be very soon :- ). Once it's finished I plan to knit a hat and mittens for L, mittens for E, and socks for E, S, Z, and me.
How soft a Caterpillar steps -- I found one on my Hand From such a velvet world it comes Such plushes at command Its soundless travels just arrest My slow -- terrestrial eye Intent upon its own career What use has it for me --
~Emily Dickinson
The spider, dropping down from twig, Unfolds a plan of her devising, A thin premeditated rig To use in rising.
And all that journey down through space, In cool descent and loyal hearted, She spins a ladder to the place From where she started.
Thus I, gone forth as spiders do In spider's web a truth discerning, Attach one silken thread to you For my returning.
~E.B. White
I think that I shall never see A billboard lovely as a tree. Perhaps, unless the billboards fall, I'll never see a tree at all. - Ogden Nash, Song of the Open Road, 1933
all of the kind comments I have received since I started blogging again
Honestly, I am amazed that anyone reads my blog at all, so I am especially grateful and delighted to have a handful of such kind and faithful readers. I enjoy reading all of your blogs very much, too. It is a pleasure to get to know you through your posts and pictures. I have gathered so many great ideas, book recommendations, recipes, and beautiful thoughts and images through your blogs. When I turn on my computer in the evening, I get to travel (virtually) across the United States and throughout the world. I know that I have readers in Vermont, Virginia, Ohio, Oregon, Scotland, and Sweden! And, although we may never meet each other face-to-face, I feel that in some small way we are friends, and that makes me smile :-)
What kinds of things are making you smile these days?