Twenty Years is a long time...

Last Friday, as we prepared to depart the county to attend my brother-in-law's wedding, my husband finished his twentieth year of teaching. He has taught high school social sciences, coached a high school baseball team, and supervised the school newspaper. Seventeen years ago, we moved to our current location, and he began teaching eighth grade language arts and history. Teaching has changed dramatically in twenty years, but my husband has faithfully served his students, and their parents, for all twenty years. He occasionally gets one of those special gifts, a note from a student from the past that says he made a difference. Most of the time, though, his job is the PILE of papers that comes between him and his family, and he spends most of his time caring for the squeaky wheels that require his attention. Amidst it all, though, he loves it, and he loves eighth graders. He reworks his lessons, staying fresh and interested; he loves grammar and words and writing and language. He also loves history, and he can fill our dining table conversation with the stories that he has taught in class. He is the teacher I wish I had had in eighth grade (he should be grateful he didn't have me as a student,though ....it was not my shining moment in childhood.)

We used to spend our February nights dreaming of other careers. Teaching is hard work, and February can be a long month. So, he would flip through the want-ads in the back of World Magazine, and I would hear him suggest teaching English in China, or switching to a small, classical school in North Carolina, or Washington, or Anywhere, U.S.A. We have actually gone as far as checking out salaries for private schools. It was a grim reality, folks. GRIM. If your students are in a small, classical school, kiss those people's feet and give them a bookstore gift card...Please!

How did we resolve this ambivalence about my husband's occupation? We moved my mother into our granny flat. We knew we couldn't move her again, so thus endeth the dream of moving away. But, a funny thing happened. Suddenly, the job looked great. The then-seven-year-old broke her leg, and we cried with joy at the insurance coverage the job provided. Our friends and our property became dear to us. Basically, we finally came home. It's funny how long the road to home can be.

I am grateful for the stability my husband has provided by working so hard, and I am happy to know that 90-120 students each year are given the gift of my husband's teaching each year. They may not see it as a gift now, but I trust that they will someday.

Happy Twentieth Year of Teaching, dear. You are the best.

All Aboard!

Steering is very serious business

Sometimes dreams come true, even ones that you didn't think of dreaming. Like being six and being invited to steer the yacht that was the location of your aunt and uncle's wedding reception. Sixty people, all celebrating a lovely occasion, being guided by a youngster who had obviously arrived at Six-Year-Old-Bliss. Priceless.

A wedding week-end

There is no more lovely, friendly and charming relationship, communion or company than a good marriage.
~ Martin Luther

There have been a handful of big gatherings of my husband's family this year. Two of these were memorial services for beloved family members; this weekend, though, we gathered for the joy of welcoming a new sister-in-law into the fold. It was a joyous celebration, on a yacht in the beautiful San Francisco Bay. My brother-in-law chose a fabulous woman for his new bride, and as an added bonus she has a very dear ten-year-old son. We are very happy to expand the family bond to include such quality people.

As I relaxed for our three-hour ride around the bay (one of my favorite places in the world), I reflected on my family-by-marriage. From the stories I hear from friends, the jokes that are cracked, and the stereotypes of in-laws as outlaws, I have to acknowledge that I am one blessed woman. My in-laws are great; they are truly my family. In a few weeks, we will celebrate our nineteenth wedding anniversary, an anniversary of having in-laws as well as a husband. I always wanted a large family; I grew up with one sister, and that never felt like enough people. When my sister died in a tragic accident almost twelve years ago, the importance of my extended family came rocketing home to me. I will never forget looking out from the podium, where I was speaking at Liz's memorial service, and seeing my mother-in-law, my sister-in-law, my brother-in-law and my niece sitting close to the front of the church. Without speaking a word, they represented the support and stability that their family would continue to provide for us. It was a precious gift at a traumatic time in my life.

My husband and I have struggled along to establish our own family, getting our rhymes and rhythms set, as have each of my husband's siblings. Marriages, remarriages, children born and adopted, relocations, job changes, life-changing crises, and constant personal growth have made the phrase "never a dull moment" seem very appropriate for us. We have much in common, and many, many things NOT in common. We are still in the process of learning how to navigate the potentially choppy waters of differing stances on spiritual matters, politics, the environment, and more, but there is an over-arching attitude of respect, admiration, and enjoyment of each other that I really value. For several years we used to gather in Lake Tahoe for a Christmas celebration. One year there was a communication break-down, and the owners of the cabin where we were gathered showed up to take over their home a day earlier than we expected; the only option was to leave. My husband had been the coordinator, and I listened to him announce that we had to leave and couldn't help wondering how the family would respond. There was not a single complaint or bit of mocking. We packed as quickly as we could, relocated to another spot, and continued the party. It was cut short, we were disappointed, but no one took the time to belittle or embarrass my already horrified husband. My step-father-in-law and I were in awe of the spirit of love and adventure that everyone showed - from oldest to youngest. It was family living at its kindest.

My husband has two older brothers and one younger sister. They are all married to kind, intelligent, caring and interesting people. Their children are equally interesting. My father-in-law, mother-in-law, and step-father-in-law are all the same. My step-father-in-law's daughter and her family are a deeply appreciated part of the group as well. We don't do a great job of staying in touch, but there is one message I have been hearing loud and clear this year: "Start keeping in touch. These are great people, and should not to be taken for granted." Okay, Lord. Admonition noted. We'll do our best, guys!


Our family, filled with joy on wedding day!

G. K. Chesterton (1874-1936)

"You say grace before meals. All right.
But I say grace before the play and the opera,
And grace before the concert and the pantomime,
And grace before I open a book,
And grace before sketching, painting,
swimming, fencing, boxing, walking, playing, dancing;
And grace before I dip the pen in the ink."

To read more about G.K. Chesterton, see this article:
"Who is this guy and why haven’t I heard of him?" at the American Chesterton Society web-page

Anyone able to identify this moth?

It is approximately 5 1/2 or 6 inches at its widest spot, and was discovered on the outside light switch this morning. We get a lot of moths around here, but this is an awe-inspiring specimen.


**************
Added later:

Thanks to Ria at the Well-Trained Mind boards, I have my answer in less than twenty minutes.

This is a Polyphemus Moth (Antherae polyphemus). For more Saturniid moth information see the University of Kentucky Entomology website here.

From their website:

This light brown or fawn colored moth has a wing spread of 3.5 to 5.5 inches. Except for the eye-spots, it is less distinctly patterned than either the cecropia or promethea. There is a relatively small window-like spot near the middle of each wing, but the window of the hindwing is surrounded by a dark patch which makes it appear larger.

The polyphemus caterpillar prefers oak, hickory, elm, maple and birch but apple, beech, ash, willow, linden, rose, grape and pine are also satisfactory host plants. The caterpillar's color is light green with narrow white bars on the sides.

They are stocky and slightly thicker in the middle. Caterpillars reach their full grown length of a little less than four inches by August or September. At this time it spins an oval tough cocoon usually with a leaf of the host plant securely webbed to its surface.

The caterpillar changes to a pupa in the completed cocoon and spends the winter in this stage. The moths emerge from their cocoons and lay eggs the following June.

WOW! I can't believe we get to observe such a beautiful moth.

Traffic jam

Just a little reminder that, when you live in the country, it is good to give yourself an extra few minutes to get to piano lessons.

Tracking packages

Open an email, click on a link, and read: On FedEx vehicle for delivery. This, my friends, is an easy way to MAKE MY DAY. I love packages, I love hearing the UPS truck grinding its gears to get up our very steep hill, I love how the FedEx van (itsy bitsy compared to the UPS barge) rolls into our driveway undetected until the dog starts up her howl. I also hate surprises, so being able to track the package from the outskirts of Colorado, over hill and dale to lovely California, is an added bonus.

Today, however, is extra-special. We have wanted a microscope for years. In anticipation of high school biology next year, there is a microscope among the 16.35 pounds of books and school materials that have been placed on the FedEx van for delivery today. When I announced that our long-awaited equipment was on its way, one of my sons declared that his first plan is to look at yogurt. "There are active cultures in that stuff." Okay. I have some mammal organs for dissection that I want to see with magnification, and I am sure we will grab some local pond water, leaves in the yard, and who knows what else.

It's a happy day.

Music history

Here's a book that has recently made its way from the "someday" section of the bookcase, to the "all over the house/being read by everyone" category:

Jazz and Its History (Masters of Music) by Giuseppe Vigna, Studio Boni-Pieri-Critone (Illustrator)

"Chronicled here are the origins of jazz in turn-of-the-century southern black communities. Also covered are jazz's transition to Broadway in the hands of George Gershwin; jazz at Carnegie Hall in the persons of Benny Goodman, Lionel Hampton, Teddy Wilson, and Gene Krupa; pioneers of bebop, including Charlie Parker and Dizzy Gillespie; and the great jazz vocalists, including Ella Fitzgerald, Dinah Washington, and Sarah Vaughan. This volume takes jazz to the present day, showing the synthesis of jazz and electronic music and citing today's best instrumentalists, including Wyton Marsalis and Don Byron."

I appreciate the fact that they mention Keith Jarrett and Pat Metheny on the last page. Good stuff.

Get Caught Reading, Part II

Two more family members Get Caught Reading

Their reading recommendations?


Owl Babies by Martin Waddell, Patrick Benson (Illustrator)


The Orange Fairy Book, by Andrew Lang

Would you like a muffin with that soundtrack?

I awoke feeling aged and infirm this morning. With all my creaks and moans, it felt like a great day for a limo to come and take me to a day at a spa. A long swim, a pedicure, a fluffy white robe...aaaah. Well,I don't know about you, but these components do not make up my everyday life, so I had to go for the alternative that is available in my home: "Where's the coffee?" My extra-large mug of French roast was cooling on the windowsill, thanks to the man of my dreams; it may not be quite like a day at the spa, but it sure helped to oil the hinges of my mind and body.

The piano music downstairs was just what the doctor ordered, too. It was Carol Ann from Freedom by Michael W. Smith; my son is learning to play many of the songs from this CD and, with a preference for the pounding tunes of Pirates of the Caribbean, Lord of the Rings, and Star Wars, he was divinely inspired with his choice of morning melodies.

The other song of perfection was the whir of the blender. That rather jarring noise is music to my ears, as it means that my daughter is busy with something in the kitchen. It's been years since that meant anything but good news; there were a few years of "creative cooking", when she produced really frightening things, but those days are g-o-n-e.

This morning's creation was from this cookbook:

Muffins: Sixty Sweet and Savory Recipes by Elizabeth Alston

Chocolate Orange Muffins (makes 12 regular or 36 miniature)

2 medium oranges, washed and dried
3 oz. bittersweet chocolate
1 cup granulated sugar
1/2 cup butter, room temp.
2 large eggs
1/2 cup plain yogurt or buttermilk
1/2 cup freshly squeezed orange juice
1 t. baking powder
1/2 t. baking soda
2 cups all-purpose flour

Heat oven to 375 degrees, grease muffin cups or use foil baking cups.

* Finely grate orange peel.
* Chop chocolate (unless you are using chips)
* Beat sugar and butter in a large bowl until pale and fluffy. Beat in eggs one at a time. Add orange peel.
* Add yogurt, orange juice, baking powder, and baking soda. Mix very well. Batter will be quite liquid.
* Sprinkle flour, then chocolate, over batter. Fold gently, just enough to blend in flour.
* Scoop into muffin cups. Bake 15 - 25 minutes, or until golden brown and springy to the touch.



Served with orange juice and milk (or a large cup of French roast), these taste treats were a fun change from the industrial-sized pot of oatmeal that we usually call breakfast. I focused on the cup of coffee, though. If my smaller jeans are ever going to fit, these will just have to remain as music to my ears and sweet fragrances wafting up the stairwell.

This cookbook is one of my favorites, and you can tell by its "well-used" appearance. It was a wedding gift from one of my former roommates, and we have had many a tasty muffin thanks to her generosity.

Sunshine? Let's have a lemonade party

Care to join us?

After weeks of asking to make lemonade, my nine-year-old daughter got her wish. I remembered to get lemons at the store, the sun was shining, and we had a lemonade party on the front deck. She set a beautiful table (and cleaned up, too!) and treated us to Little House on the Prairie lemonade. The world of Laura Ingalls has been filling my daughter's mind. She just finished the series of books, and loved making a recipe from this cookbook:

My Little House Cookbook
Lemonade (4 Servings)

1/2 cup sugar
1 cup hot tap water
2 lemons
2 cups cold water
10 ice cubes
4 lemon slices

1. Pour the sugar into the pitcher. Ask a grown-up to help you add the hot tap water to the sugar. Stir about 20 times to dissolve the sugar. Ask a grown-up to help you cut the lemons in half and, using the lemon reamer or juicer, extract 1/2 cup of lemon juice. Add the lemon juice, the cold water, and the ice cubes to the mixture. Stir to combine.

2. To garnish, drop a lemon slice into each glass, or make a slit to the center of each slice and stand it up on the rim of each glass.

My nine-year-old is a night owl. We have decided, for several reasons, to work on getting her to bed earlier. Two Saturday mornings ago, I got the job of getting her up on the earlier schedule. I decided to go with the "spoon full of sugar helps the medicine go down" method, and had some fun with our traditional Saturday pancakes. When I told my sleepy-head that I had a pancake for her in the shape of a bear (with a heart on its tummy) she opened her sleepy eyes and said contentedly, "Oh, Mama. That's something that MA would do." I had arrived! It was a great Mama moment.


Rabbit came, too

"If I can put one touch of rosy sunset into the life of any man or woman, I shall feel that I have worked with God."
G. K. Chesterton

Rain

Be still, sad heart, and cease repining; Behind the clouds the sun is shining; Thy fate is the common fate of all, Into each life some rain must fall, Some days must be dark and dreary.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, An April Day

Mr. Longfellow, you don't understand. It is a happy day when it is raining... again. Rain doesn't have to be endured; it can be celebrated. The first rainy day of the school year we call a holiday and enjoy the bliss of cool wetness. It is one of my favorite holidays (especially since no one expects a card from me (-:)

Now, want to talk about the heat? That we endure. The mercury rises and we start looking for rocks under which we can hide. I don't like to be hot, I don't like air conditioning. I had one child in the blazing heat of August, and one in the enduring heat of September. Just be glad that you weren't here.

But with rain? We open the windows, put on the coffee and cocoa, read an extra chapter of the latest book, and (on the best kind of rainy days) take a walk. As long as there is a cozy place where we can warm up, a little rain makes for refreshment of the best kind, and pouring rain makes a walk an adventure.

It is mid-May and we are still happy with every day of rain. This is a rare year; we know that the h-e-a-t is coming, so today we celebrate.

Playing Hookey

Today, east of Sacramento, two grown women (the mothers of ten children between the two of them) were seen surreptitiously entering a movie theater in the mid-afternoon. Several hours later, they were seen leaving the movie Kingdom of Heaven and were questioned at the door. "Excuse me, ladies. Is it true you came all this way to see Orlando Bloom?" The older of the two women muttered a comment about being old enough to be the man's mother, and that the few seconds of a preview with Russell Crowe were more her cuppa tea. Defending their presence there at such a frivolous hour, she declared, "As home educating parents, amidst the study of this time period, a film about the Crusades was a worthwhile use of our time. Plus, they had free popcorn and soda for the grand opening. You can't ask a frugal mother to pass that up, can you?" The other woman, much younger, blushed and said, "No comment."

Okay, this is all just to tease my nameless friend that joined me in my mid-afternoon movie madness. I can count on ONE hand the number of movies I have seen in the theater in the last FIFTEEN years, so this was a rare, newsworthy site.

My thoughts on the movie? It was disturbing, as any story of the Crusades is. Who was right? Who was wrong? There was so much violence, and in the name of God (or using God's name as an excuse for bloodshed.) It was gut-wrenchingly violent (many an eye-closing moment for me) and a heavy conversation starter for the cup of coffee afterwards. I wish that life could be sewn up in a neat little box. I wish that my faith, and the expression of that same faith through the centuries, made more sense as I grow older. My faith grows stronger and deeper, and yet my questions and doubts continue to niggle at the edges of my mind. I think I will just have to rest in this spot for now.

If you don't have a stomach for violence, pass this movie by. If, however, you have seen Mr. Bloom as a shallow, pretty boy actor, you might be pleased at the maturing that he's done in this role. Still not my type, though. I go for the older, foxy, paper-grading type myself.

Book review

Just when my summer reading list was beginning to burst at the seams, this book review pops into focus as I was scrolling through the Wilson Quarterly website:

SACRED AND SECULAR: Religion and Politics Worldwide
by Pippa Norris and Ronald Inglehart. (Cambridge Univ. Press)
Reviewed by: Os Guinness

A quote from the review:

"Religion is the key to history, Lord Acton wrote. In today’s intellectual circles, however, it’s more like the skunk at the garden party. To many intellectuals, religion is a private matter at best, and most appropriately considered in terms of its functions rather than the significance of its beliefs, let alone its truth claims. At worst, it’s the main source of the world’s conflicts and violence—what Gore Vidal, in his Lowell Lecture at Harvard University in 1992, called “the great unmentionable evil” at the heart of our culture."

In praise of Schola Classical Tutorials

Great Books Year 1
(With apologies to Homer - we couldn't find The Illiad for the photo op.)

This has been my oldest daughter's first year of studying the Great Books with an online tutor, Wes Callihan of Schola Tutorials. It has been a fabulous success. She has read (and read, and read); she has written and reflected on each class, each book, and many interesting topics. She has gleaned much from Mr. C's depth of knowledge, delightful humor, and his overall exuberance about life and learning, all the while making some good friends from around the country.

Each Monday afternoon, the audio was turned on, and we all listened as Wes held forth on the current book, guided the student discussion, and answered any questions the students had. We had thought that earphones would be used to keep the house quieter, but huge protests convinced me to allow the speakers to be on. It was a fantastic year of study for my daughter, and we got to listen along.

So, this is my plug for Schola Classical Tutorials. From their website:

"Schola Classical Tutorials offers live group tutorials over the internet in the subjects of a classical liberal arts curriculum: the classical languages, the great books of literature and history, and rhetoric. These are the subjects that teach students the skills of thinking and learning and that teach them the history of the ideas that have shaped our culture. These skills, and a knowledge of these ideas, are the foundation for further study and for a lifetime of learning and intelligent participation in our culture."

This next year will mean Great Books II, which covers ancient Roman literature and history, and my daughter has pleaded to be able to take Anglo Saxon as well. She'll share the cost, so we agreed.

Wes is also coming down to our area this summer to lead a week-long intensive study of Latin. The class (which will include our daughter) will go through the entire Wheelock's Latin textbook in five long days. If you're going to do crazy things in your youth, this might as well be one of them, eh?

By the way: there is a Great Books for Adults course available. You can find the course description here. This is on my "one of these years" list. I am sure it would be very helpful, enlightening and fun.

If I had made a list of qualities I would want a tutor to have, I would have listed (naturally) a knowledge of the material and an ability to relate to students. If I was dreaming big, I would include a healthy sense of humor, a delight in learning new material, and a passion for whatever topic was being discussed. Wes Callihan fills the bill for this dream list; we couldn't recommend him highly enough.

Kindness

Last night my younger daughter brought down a bottle of lavender-scented lotion and offered to give me a foot rub. Oh my! What joy, what comfort, what bliss; she has great massage hands. This morning she came home from a run with her Papa and her hands were filled with these wildflowers.


"I picked these just for you, Mama."

Isn't it nice when someone is kind? I hadn't realized how much I was in need of some special kindness. Her gifts went straight to my heart and filled me with joy. I need to make sure I make such kind choices throughout my days.

Thanks, Little Bear.

Listening to Your Life

"When a minister reads out of the Bible, I am sure that at least nine times out of ten the people who happen to be listening at all hear not what is really being read but only what they expect to hear read. And I think that what most people expect to hear read from the Bible is an edifying story, an uplifting thought, a moral lesson - something elevating, obvious, and boring. So that is exactly what very often they do hear. Only that is too bad because if you really listen - and maybe you have to forget that it is the Bible being read and a minister who is reading it - there is no telling what you might hear."

Listening to Your Life, by Frederick Buechner

Persiflage (PUR-sih-flazh) noun

def: Light-hearted or flippant treatment of a subject; banter

I love words, and one of my favorite resources for new words is A.Word.A.Day. Each morning, when I check my emails, I get the gift of a new word. If you would like the gift of an intellectually interesting email each day (something I don't take for granted) you can subscribe here. If you forget, I am sure I will give them a plug again soon. I love this resource.

Get Caught Reading Month

This is MY month -- I can get caught reading at the most amazing times of each and every day. This "lovely" shot is provided for you by the son with a new-found interest in digital photography. We are both enjoying the new Jane Austen books that WPMs, Inc. brought as a gift, in one of our favorite spots for reading. As I often tell my family, "If this bed was more beautiful, or more comfortable, I might never get out of it." With the amount of sleep I require every night, that is almost true already.

So, what are you waiting for? Certainly not for the Association of American Publishers to tell you to read, right? Who cares if you get caught, just READ! And then tell ME what you are reading, okay? I'd love to know.

Sites from in and around our neck-of-the-woods

One of the Canada goose families from our pond



From our chickens



Sergeant Pumpkin Lewis



What more could you ask?

Happy Be-Lated Birthday Reflections

On top of the world

On May 3rd we were very busy. It was my third child's 12th birthday, AND we had the stomach flu. What a sad bit of timing. (Anne with an "e" would say tragical, wouldn't she?) We had a movie fest, watching the movies of his choice, and tried to feel better. The formal party was scheduled for Friday, and it was ONLY Tuesday. "Surely we will all feel just dandy by Friday!" No such luck. The party at our house was cancelled by a resurgence of symptoms, and was moved (with only the "healthy" members of the family) to another location. I, unfortunately, was not a qualifying attendee, but I have it on good report that it was a delightful evening. Children ages 6 to 17, a handful of crazy grown-ups, and plenty of English country dancing, singing 'round the piano and general hilarity. We provided party favors, which I hope to be able to display here when I get pictures sent to me. Surgical masks for the Sick Family members, surgical gloves for all (to wear, make balloons of, whatever) and bottles of hand sanitizer to add to the health and aromatherapy of the evening. If laughter is the best medicine, you would think this icky bug would have vacated our house a bit sooner than it did.

I was impressed with the patience and kindness of my son as he waited to celebrate. He is like his mother: he loves his birthday, he loves to have parties with friends and family, and he had been planning his special day for a couple of months. Then, he was offered set-back after set-back. "Maybe we can have a birthday breakfast tomorrow, hon." No such luck. We did finally celebrate with Dutch babies, banner, and presents, but it took us until Friday, and the cake didn't even appear until Saturday night with the WPMs family. It was a fabulous cake:


The Ultimate Boy Scout Birthday Cake

and well worth the wait. But, I am grateful for a child that did not complain, expressed concern for his sick family members, and put his hopes and dreams on hold until we could all participate with him. What a great guy.

As he grows older, his similarities to his father grow stronger and stronger. When we were at our aunt's memorial service in April, many people commented on their similar appearance. What I like about having a child who looks so much like my husband is that it reminds me that my son is becoming a man. That may sound obvious to you, but I can get pretty stuck in the "now." It is really good for me to see my children as adults-in-the-making. We are shooting for a high water mark of maturity around here, wanting to contribute to life and bless those around us, and if my son can continue to be a reminder of his father, he is well on his way to a good place.

Wherever he is headed, I trust that his life will continue to be filled with adventures that include backpacks, skis, bow & arrows, music, basketball statistics, and cases of books. He has begun to write stories, detailed and filled with imagery that ignites my imagination. A new and fascinating person is just starting to emerge; this stage of parenting is so much more exciting than all those nay-sayers let on.

From now until August 8th I have the fine distinction of saying that I have children ages 14, 13 and 12 (and 9 and 6, but it is those first three that are so impressive this time of year.) Yes, they are close in age. Yes, we know where babies come from. Yes, I was busy when they were younger. Yes, I knew they would all be teenagers at the same time. NO, I don't regret it. Adding baby #3, a mere thirty-two months after baby #1, and nineteen months after baby #2, was one of the smartest things we have ever done (as if it was all up to us anyway!) These three teenagers (or soon to be's) are fun and funny and way more interesting than most anything I can imagine. I am one blessed woman.

Happy (be-lated) Birthday, dear Rex!


The Birthday Gentleman

Art Class

Practicing impressionistic techniques

Last Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday we attended an art class given by Barry and Saundra Stebbing of How Great Thou Art Publications. This was our second time taking the class, and I have written before (here) about how influencial our 2003 class was. One of my sons is particularly interested in sketching and painting, and he was praising Barry's teaching methods on our way home from class on Monday. When I asked him what it was that he liked, he said, "Mr. Stebbing is a great speaker, he is very confident in what he says, and he does not flatter me. He is honest, and when he says he likes something, it makes me feel really good." I fully agree with him, and I am glad we were able to offer more support to all our children in their artistic endeavors. Later that week, I found my son in his room, emptying out his red tool chest. "Isn't this the perfect place to keep my art supplies, Mom?" When the tools of your trade are brushes, paints, pencils and sketch book, it is perfect!


Signs of creativity are everywhere

I also appreciate the friendship of the Stebbings. We have corresponded since we met in 2003, as we share a common love of art journaling. This is a real passion of Barry's, but it is hard to communicate to people how beneficial it can be. The fact that it stuck for me, and that I share the passion, has made us good friends.

I had allowed the lethargy of winter to interfere with journaling, but class rekindled the interest. I went back through the pages of my art journal, adding details to unfinished pages, and ended up being really pleased with the results. One page in particular was a tree that I really didn't like. For some reason I had had difficulty making the branches and trunk look at all realistic, and I was tempted to cover it over with a fresh piece of paper. Before I gave up, though, I added some lines for shading and bark, colored it in with several shades of green, brown and yellow, and VOILA. It looked like a lovely tree. I am so glad that I didn't give up.


Ready to journal

I told my children that I would pay for large art journals for them if a) they would commit to one page a week, and b) commit to finishing the entire book (no matter how long it takes.) Learning to finish things well is easier to do when young, and I am excited that all of my children took me up on the offer. This is something we really enjoy doing together at home and on the road, and the slower pace of summer is an especially fruitful time for our journals. I can't wait to see what they draw and write.

To keep things interesting, I am fiddling with watercolors and with speeding up my sketching style. Both are aided by some new books:


Watercolor: Simple, Fast, and Focused : Essential Concepts for Mastering the Medium, by Mel Stabin


Charles Reid's Watercolor Secrets, by Charles Reid


Fast Sketching Techniques, by David J. Rankin

I am enjoying all three volumes and recommend them highly.

I am grateful that the Stebbings can be mentors for our family. A mentor isn't something you can just google up on the internet, or search for in the yellow pages. I feel incredibly blessed to have spent time with Barry and Saundra two years ago, so that our friendship could grow. Now, after this visit, we have all become better acquainted, and the children were able to establish their own relationships with both Barry and Saundra. As we grow, struggle, and try and try again to hone our skills and interests, it is good to know that we have mentors that are willing to spur us on to excellence, especially ones that encourage all of us to deepen our relationship with the Creator of us all. What a gift.

If the idea of art journaling is a bit of a mystery, it might help to see an example of someone's journal. Barry has published, in "coffee table book" style, one of his favorite journals. The book is entitled Painting America, and (as you would guess) is a journal from his trip across the United States. He travelled with his wife and a friend, and each of the men painted three paintings in each of the lower forty-eight states. You can see samples of his art work, read journal entries that he wrote, and get an idea for what this journaling thing is all about. I couldn't find a link for the book on the website, but you can contact their office to order it: 1-800-982-DRAW.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807 - 1882)

Monday night splendor

After a day of cloud and wind and rain
Sometimes the setting sun breaks out again,
And touching all the darksome woods with light,
Smiles on the fields, until they laugh and sing,
Then like a ruby from the horizon's ring
Drops down into the night.

The Hanging of the Crane, VII

Cyber-space meets real-life

Every now and then the opportunity arises to meet someone that I have become acquainted with in the internet world. The forums at The Well-Trained Mind were my first venture into cyber-space, and I have made several in-real-life friends through participating there. Last summer a group of us from the boards met on the beach in Oregon for an afternoon of non-stop talking and munching. There were no unpleasant surprises, only pleasure in finally putting faces to names I had read for a few years. The hostess for our gathering was MomBob at WPMs, and we really clicked. It was quite clear that we could spend days and days talking about topics of interest to both of us. That, or just laugh together; that is always a fine option. Well, just this week-end we have had the chance. The whole WPMs family came south to do some Gold Rush history study, and we were able to enjoy blocks of time together over three days.

A trip to Coloma State Park, site of gold discovery along the American River, was our first stop. My husband was the docent for that leg of the trip, and I rested up at home before meeting everyone mid-day. It could not have been better weather - the sky was clear blue, the weather cool enough for a cotton sweater, and the wildflowers were blooming along the river. That night DadBob brought marguerita makings and his own magical recipe -- we appreciated his generosity and fun-loving spirit. Over pizza and "grown-up lemonade", we heard funny stories of childhood in Maine, talked everything from Boy Scouts and mosquitoes, to church-life and home education. The value of geometry in math education, the identity of countless birds in our native area, history, science - what doesn't DadBob know? We learned tons and enjoyed it all.

We celebrated Mother's Day with brunch, more talking, and the joy of seeing our children play and relax together. It was nice to not have to rush, to have time to share favorite stories, and to knit the link of friendship a little longer.

The weather turned on us today, and we found ourselves huddled under canvas overhangs in the middle of Sutter's Fort in Sacramento, waiting for the torrential downpour and hail to end. The rain filled the puddles for splashing, and gave us more time to laugh together. The children, done with the "educational" component of the tour, found little chips of wood and had "boat" races in the rushing little streams next to the walkways.

The WPMs family is kind, generous, bright, witty and deep-thinking. If it is up to all of us, we will meet again (and again.) We exchanged book ideas, magazine articles, new topics of interest. Maybe when our paths cross on vacation in Oregon again this summer we will have the pleasure of starting where we left off -- deepening a friendship that has become precious to me.

Thanks for the visit, friends. And thanks for your generous gifts. (Hostess thank-yous included not only marguerita makings, but Jane Austen as well. How did she know? *smile*)


BoyBob and the Junior Mint doing California History

The beauty of the American River canyon
(and my favorite nine-year-old girl)

Circle of Quiet and WPMs boys at Sutter's Fort

The time passed too quickly

Well, I'm back...

"At last the three companions turned away, and never again looking back they rode slowly homewards; and they spoke no word to one another until they came back to the Shire, but each had great comfort in his friends on the long grey road.

At last they rode over the downs and took the East Road, and then Merry and Pippin rode on to Buckland; and already they were singing again as they went. But Sam turned to Bywater, and so came back up the Hill, as day was ending once more. And he went on, and there was yellow light, and fire within; and the evening meal was ready, and he was expected. And Rose drew him in, and set him in his chair, and put little Elanor upon his lap.

He drew a deep breath. 'Well, I'm back,' he said."

The Lord of the Rings: Return of the King

Okay, so a stomach virus is not a journey up Mount Doom to destroy the ring, or a trip to the Grey Havens to bid farewell to the dearest of friends, but there were moments in the misery that you would have been hard pressed to convince me of that. I. hate. stomach viruses. PERIOD. We have battled, we have surrendered, we have attempted a comeback, and we have gone down again. But, finally, we are back! Our new Mount Doom is the laundry pile, and I think we will call in the carpet cleaner to help us finish germ-purging, but we are making it back to the Shire where the fire is warm and dinner is waiting.

Amidst it all we have celebrated a birthday, finished book two in the Chronicles of Narnia, and reached our maximum capacity for movie viewing for a while. I finished The Name of the Rose, we have filled pages in our art journals, and we all rested a lot.

So, beware potential blogging binges in the days to come. We still have art class reflections to document, a fine young man's birthday to chronicle, and a visit from the family at WPMs to detail. We have managed to fill in the cracks and crevices of our moany-groany days with many bloggable moments.

Last night we had yet another storm, with the thrill of lightning and thunder. I stole outside alone and stood under the cover of the front porch to listen to all the sounds. Sheets of lightning and booms of thunder were interlaced with the croaking of frogs from the stream down the hill and the gentle raindrops blowing against the oak leaves. Finally, the clouds just unloaded, and all that could be heard was the pound-pound-pounding of hard rain. The air smelled heavenly, my mind was racing away, and I realized I felt healthy. Not just nausea-free, not just rested, but alive, clear-thinking, happy and thankful. Nothing like the by-gone days of the stomach flu to make a gal grateful. Oh, it is good to be back.

Unhappy campers

Pretty much sums it up around here....

Last Tuesday, on our way to art class, one of my children gave rather sudden "evidence" of intestinal discomfort. I naively assumed car sickness (straight road, slow and constant traffic flow...naive!) Well, the bug that bit the art student is making its way through the Circle of Quiet family, bringing misery to most of us. But, ever-looking for that bright lining in the dark cloud, my too-tight-waistband is now loose, I may just get through The Name of the Rose before the school year is over, and it sure saves money on the food budget. Plus, the handy thing about home education is that you can do math and history, listen to story tapes, and even do typing practice on a laptop, all from a horizontal position. You can also watch too much NBA playoffs basketball, watch the "making of" portion of Pirates of the Caribbean, and eat many, many, many saltine crackers.

This is the week of my son's 12th birthday, with plans for an English Country Dancing bash in the backyard, and a long-awaited visit from the WPMs family this weekend. We have a tour of Gold Rush history sites planned, not intestinal discomfort! We can only hope that, since all but one of us are in various stages of illness and recovery, we will be brand-spankin' new by the week-end. Only time, and boxes of saltines, will tell.

C. S. Lewis (1898 - 1963)

What is more...., it is just the people who are ready to submit to the loss of the thrill and settle down to the sober interest, who are then most likely to meet new thrills in some quite different direction. The man who has learned to fly and become a good pilot will suddenly discover music; the man who has settled down to live in the beauty spot will discover gardening.

This is, I think, one little part of what Christ meant by saying that a thing will not really live unless it first dies. It is simply no good trying to keep any thrill: that is the very worst thing you can do. Let the thrill go - let it die away - go on through that period of death into the quieter interest and happiness that follow - and you will find you are living in a world of new thrills all the time. But if you decide to make thrills your regular diet and try to prolong them artificially, they will all get weaker and weaker, and fewer and fewer, and you will be a bored, disillusioned old man for the rest of your life. It is because so few people understand this that you find many middle-aged men and women maundering about their lost youth, at the very age when new horizons ought to be appearing and new doors opening all round them. It is much better fun to learn to swim than to go on endlessly (and hopelessly) trying to get back the feeling you had when you first went paddling as a small boy.

~from Mere Christianity

A Year with C.S. Lewis: Daily Readings from His Classic Works.