of dust and dollhouses

 

Once again I attempted Bath pictures and they got eaten up. It's a bad idea to try to do much online in the evenings here.  Our connection speed drops quite a bit and becomes downright erratic when others in the area get online.  Maybe tomorrow there will be time.  I feel like I say that a lot and then there isn't, but that's ok too.  

It's funny because when the children are little there is so very much time spent supervising, guiding, helping.  Days go by without many free moments at all. Now many of mine are long past needing that sort of input by me, but still there are texts, emails, and catching up around the kitchen island when we all return from work and activities.  And those are the very best parts of the day. We have become a community and I love that.  Though in a community this size you can expect that at any given time some people are sailing along and some need encouragement and someone might be struggling.  That's pretty much how it usually is and it keeps you on your toes. 

We had a freak wind storm this morning which got our day off to a running start. Just after Allen and Alannah headed to work it kicked up.  A loud bang caught Aidan's attention and he noticed the trampoline had flipped over and up onto the side of the house.  Fortunately it missed all the windows but it was quite impossible to move it with the wind at 26mph.  The boys held it in place until we had a pocket of calm when we could get it to the fence and tie it down. 

In the distance we could see the dirt clouds building.  Our farm was a higher piece of fen land and never was underwater as so much of the surrounding area once was.  However, it was sort of like the beach, you could say, and some of the fields are still very sandy.  They are ideal for growing the carrots and beets they plant here.  But at times like this, after the last harvest and before the next, the wind wrecks havoc. 

It was all much better by soccer time.  And the wind did not trigger my car alarm multiple times like it did during the game the night before.  ThankyouGod. 

What else?  The littles have been making heaps of progress academically though in surprisingly short spurts during the day.  In between there is a LOT of dollhouse play for the girls and throwing of footballs in imaginary games for Brendan.  Still, they are learning so much.  I have had them together for some things.  In photography-speak they call it batch processing. <g> They are both reading like mad.  B is reading The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe to me.  Tess is moving into the short chapter books he just moved out of.  Both are learning cursive.  Both are working through  If You Lived in Colonial Times (and the other books in the series) Both are soaring through the Strayer Upton math. So fwiw, these are all hits. 

The flowers came home with a man who is concerned about some tests of mine that came back with a little hitch requiring more tests. Hopefully nothing.  Probably nothing. But sort of hanging overhead until they are "for sure" nothing, if you know what I mean. 

Speaking of news, its been a big week hasn't it?  Much sadness and scary stuff playing out on screens.  We tuned in the other night when Boston was unfolding.  We sent the little ones to bed but one of the boys was all curled up next to his dad so I left him and his older brother to watch with him.

 It soon becomes apparent that although the news is ON 24 hours a day, there isn't really 24 hours of breaking news.  There is about 7 minutes of news on a continuous loop.  So we watched and we turned it off.  Between us and our facebook feeds we have the gist of what has happened since.  It's enough.  We know to pray and we are.  But we can easily forget that kids are not tiny adults.  There is nothing good to be gained by letting that continuous loop of disturbing news and sensational images become the background music of their lives.   So in their world there are dusty clouds and dolls to dress and soccer nets.  Just as it should be. 

Wishing you the same. 

 

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Apr 2013

The Old Mill Stream

 

Pictures are piling up again. Spring is finally here it seems though, and we have been enjoying it so very much.  So while I promise Bath news is coming, meantime I leave you with the old mill stream – literally.  Before breakfast I walked along the stream beside the old Beckington Mill in Somerset which dates back to 1086. 

It was a frosty morning but the sun quickly warmed things up.  The days have been successively more seasonal and sunny since, pulling us outdoors. This is as it should be. 

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The golden moments in the stream of life rush past us, and we see nothing but sand; the angels come to visit us, and we only know them when they are gone.

– George Elliot

 

Don't let it rush past. 


English Breakfast

 

“When you wake up in the morning, Pooh," said Piglet at last, "what's the first thing you say to yourself?"

"What's for breakfast?" said Pooh. "What do you say, Piglet?"

"I say, I wonder what's going to happen exciting today?" said Piglet.

Pooh nodded thoughtfully. "It's the same thing," he said.” 

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My older daughters and I spent a long girls' weekend in Bath with friends.  I hadn't made the reservations nor really investigated much ahead of time so our inn was a delightful surprise.  We decided not to stay in Bath proper but rather at a farm not far away. That of course is a real treat for a farm girl. : ) It is fascinating to see the many variations there are on this theme throughout the world. 

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The mornings begin with a full English breakfast. I was familiar with the tea, but honestly never gave much thought to the term itself, much less how it differed from a continental breakfast. The continental breakfast, common in hotels in the States as well as on mainland Europe, tends to be served buffet style and is on the light side. Cereals, bagels, yogurt, and maybe cheese or cold cuts are common.  A full English breakfast is exactly that – full.  Huge. Hot.  Awesome. 

 

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First came the steaming French press, brought out by the lovely gentleman who ran the place.  Jugs of fresh local cream sat on the tables topped by weighted doilies, presumably once meant to keep out flies but there were certainly none around.  Teapots joined shortly. On a side table there were already bowls of chopped fresh fruit and yogurt waiting. 

                                                                               
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Then the courses began arriving.  There were eggs – boiled, fried, scrambled. Bacon rashers and sausages.  A side note on that too is that Americans tend to use side cuts for bacon resulting in what the English call streaky rashers.  The more common bacon here is back cut, more like Canadian. There was then toast and croissants. Fried mushrooms and tomatoes. Hash browns. 

 
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                         The farm was bustling early in the day as farms tend to be. Horses were exercised and fed. Chickens, ducks, peacocks, and turkeys meandered just outside the conservatory windows.  A little slice of heaven.

 

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Inside Oxburgh

 

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While the scavenger hunt held the attention of the children this weekend I was every bit as excited to see Oxburgh since the hall is now open for the season. It has a bit of a split personality, decor wise, being part medieval castle and part Victorian manor house.  This is because the manor has been used as a residence continuously – and by the same family – since it was built in 1482.  That's ten years before Columbus discovered American, for reference.  A really long time. 

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The hall is built in a U-shape around a large open courtyard.  There is one entrance, across a drawbridge over the moat. A moat is a very cool thing.  Until you find out what was in there. Turns out medieval toilets were placed in the four corners of the hall complex. They were essentially shoots and "shot" down open piping into yes, the moat. Ew. 

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(above – one set of shelves in the library was actually a false door into the dining room)

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The family was Catholic which put them in a dangerous position when their faith was banned in England by Elizabeth I.  In 1589 the family, like many across the country, created a 'priest hole' in the event that their home would be raided when a missionary priest was saying mass.  This one was well concealed…..in the aforementioned medieval toilet shoot. 

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(btw, that bright blue streak atop the clock is a spoon.  The children had to spot colored spoons in each room as they toured) 

Many of the interior toilets were constructed in garderobes, precursor to the closet or dressing room.  Inside this room there was a narrow set of steps to what appeared to be an indoor latrine. A square of the heavy stone floor was hinged which allowed it to be lifted up so a person could access the shoot and slip down into a small holding area constructed in the tower below the floor. No windows, no water, no light. Once the 18in thick floor was put back into place there was no way to escape and the priest would be at the mercy of the family to retrieve him eventually.  It seems that the soldiers that raided would sometimes wait at the property for days. 

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Another nod to this era was a collection of embroideries by Mary, Queen of the Scots while in exile. 

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Very sobering, all that.  You touch the prayer books and rosaries and know in your heart, that had you made your entry a few years earlier, this could be you.  It could be you.  

The happy ending is that this family carried on through good years and bad, as we all must. The world changes.  The world stays the same.  We put one foot in front of the other in faith day by day.   

Mar 2013 oxburgh web