“You know my method. It is founded upon the observation of trifles.” – Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
No fancy lesson plan here, just the fun of taking things apart and looking inside. Don't worry. No garden perennials were harmed in this project. I read on a decor blog that forced potted bulbs were an inexpensive way to buy spring flowers so we had several. It turns out forced bulbs don't transplant well. As the blooms faded we made some cross sections to label.
Years ago there was an article called by Kym Wright (she's so inspiring!) called How a Textbook Mom Does Unit Studies. She described going through the texts and jotting down the topics that will be covered and keeping that list with you for library trips and picking up other relevant projects here and there. Although we have done whole family unit studies in the past, for many years now we have been using Catholic texts as the spine of our curriculum with LOTS of real life and real books filling in. Frankly it is a great deal easier for me to "track" the texts on transcripts without sucking the joy out of the rest of it by documenting it to death. (back story)
Alice Cantrell's moon painting caught my eye on instagram a while back. When one of the girls had a space chapter in their science book we decided to grab some related library books and try our hands. We are not Alice, any of us, yet the girls still really enjoyed picking up the paint with tissue to create variations in the moon's surface and learning the names. They worked independently so their phases are not in order, for any particular types.
In case it was not clear, let me be sure you know we don't elaborate on every topic every child covers and we certainly don't have a messy project every day. We do more of these now that the children are all school aged and above. It's a perk of getting through all the chasing, pooping, and waking all night long years. They were wonderful in other ways and I miss them. Watercolor is a poor substitute for that baby on your lap. So if messy projects make your eyes roll back in your head right now, please scroll quickly and put it out of your mind. You are where you should be and doing exactly what you ought. All is well.
It has warmed up considerably which means the children are rushing back outdoors after dinner to catch the last rays of sunshine before the light is gone for the day. On one of those evenings this week they came back in breathless and told me to look out the window. There on the deck was a beautiful bird not normally seen up here. In fact we mostly see birds of prey and mappies and the occasional blue bird (literally a blue bird that isn't a bluebird. I am a flunky Charlotte Mason homeschooler). Although I am lame at identifying birds on sight I am awesome at grabbing my camera to snap the nameless creatures and send their pictures to Macbeth. And I did.
The bird wasn't the least bit afraid of us, also not aggressive, and spent several minutes resting there amidst kids and dogs. It appeared to be well so we left it alone. It was not until some days later when I was editing the images that I noticed the leg band. That set off our research and the note to Macbeth who suggested perhaps it was a homing pigeon. Eventually found this site explaining how to read a leg band, which birds get banded and where they may be from. We discovered this bird is registered with the AU = AMERICAN RACING PIGEON UNION ORGANIZATION. Searching their site we learned our bird was likely from Pennsylvania. We are still trying to figure out if this is possible.
We read that lost or tired birds usually are looking for water. I wish we had known this earlier. This page explains what you can do if a bird that's lost his way crosses your path. Pigeon trivia here.
Books we have ordered:
Gay-Neck The Story of a Pigeon
Along with whatever non-fiction we can drum up.
A box came in the mail the other day. Someone snatched that up right quick. I won't say they don't like actual toy toys because we have a metropolis of Calico Critters that says otherwise. Still, you can't beat a good supply of completely open-ended raw materials.
A friend has a daughter who is an art therapist today. She was saying that in her inpatient settings oftentimes art is the one area the client has complete decision making control. I hadn't really considered that until that moment. I do know children often are unable to make a lot of decisions for themselves. We take for granted that we present to them the food they will eat and tell them where they will go that day or what to wear that will be most appropriate. Those are not necessarily bad things. But its nice to be able to build in opportunities for safe experiences of autonomy and utter freedom of expression where we can.
They like to make decisions too.
Fewer words, more experiences.
Less conflict, more harmony.
In an increasingly dissonant world, I am so very grateful there are still cheap seats at the symphony. I do believe music was meant to be heard live. We can lecture about the arts but if we want our babies to fall in love with them they must have the opportunity to experience them closely. The best recordings cannot capture the wild gesturing of the conductor nor the bows slowly fraying. Sitting up close to the stage gave us just that experience the other night.
Brahms and Shostakovich were the featured composers for the evening. I was fairly familiar with Brahms, one of the three B's we have studied a great deal, but admit that I have been on a rabbit trail researching Shostakovich, the cold war composer whose music was purportedly an indictment of Soviet rule. Making the work more intriquing yet was the quest cellist Narek Hakhnazaryan. His performance was physically intense and engaging.
I was pleased to notice other children in the audience. It is a thrill to pick out the perfect dress-up outfit, to be handed programs and escorted to your seats, like the very important little humans they are. Will they be able to fully appreciate Shostakovich's irony and double meaning? Will they pick up on the melancholy of Brahms? Is that even the point? I'd say no. A piece I read not long ago sums up best:
"The foods we serve, the activities we prioritize, and the books we read as a family communicate to our children what we value and what we want them to love when they are grown."
"We take our child into nature to try to spot a red-tailed hawk or the first bloom of spring even though they may not grasp the full extent of the magnificence of what they’re seeing because we want them to love them. We memorize Robert Frost poems and read The Hobbit together because they are good and good for them, knowing they will not understand every word. We stop everything every week for the Lord’s Day and share worship through music and teachings from the scripture because it is more important for our family than anything else, even though they may not follow everything they hear. If we wait until our children are “ready” for good foods, great stories, life-changing events, and the Truth, we may never have the opportunity to share them."
- Jessica Burke, Let Them Eat Steak
The best things in life speak different messages to us at different times in our lives. All equally valid and necessary.
"Give your children good things, the best things you can, even when they can’t appreciate them fully, in hopes that, when they are grown, they will have a hunger for them."
These books and cd's are keeping the experience alive around the house this week:
The Young Person's Guide to the Orchestra
Favorite project this week was the winter trees against the snow and sky. The children cut a undulating edge off the blue paper and glued it over the white. Then they used sharpies just below the snow line and "grew" up a tree trunk and branched off. To make fatter trunks they began again near the base and ran the line alongside the first. Gray pastels beginning at the bottom of the tree and fading down and left gave the illusion of shadow. One child had a wonky shadow which gave us the chance to discuss direction of light probably more effectively than if they had all been 'perfect.' White pastel made the moon and falling snow.
It was an easy art lesson that gave a lot of bang for the buck. The finished work was really nice! #makeart
"For Mrs. Sharp's family, the holiday excitement begins as soon as the Thanksgiving turkey starts simmering on the stove for soup. Then we put away the everyday china to make room for the Christmas crockery and bring out the Advent Box.
"Advent Box, Mrs. Sharp? Is this another old-fashioned Victorian tradition?"
No, dear readers. Advent is one of the oldest celebrations of the Christmas season, dating back at least 14 centuries. The Advent season–the four weeks preceding Christmas–is traditionally set aside for spiritual preparation before the Nativity of Christ. Mrs. Sharp likes to think that Advent is the doorway through which we enter into a joyful Christmas.
And the Advent Box is just a cardboard box, clearly labeled "Advent" (to distinguish it from the hundreds of "Xmas boxes" in the attic). It contains all the books, supplies and materials Mrs. Sharp needs early in December in order to celebrate Advent.
Do you observe the season of Advent in your home? Victorian families did, for the many colorful customs that surround its observance–the Advent calendar, wreath and candles, as well as mini-festivals such as St. Nicholas Day (Dec. 6) and St. Lucia's Day (Dec. 13)–all added to the children's understanding and appreciation of Christmas."
Although the lower level remodel is eating up a good deal of our time right now we are enjoying our Austin family style advent doing some bit of preparation each day along with our special advent prayers. This weekend's particular task is to be certain we are prepared for St. Nicholas' feast day Tuesday. Now is the time to ensure there are chocolate coins and candy canes for the shoes as well as the makings for a simple craft gathered up.
"It is infinitely well worth the mother’s while to take some pains every day to secure, in the first place, that her children spend hours daily amongst rural and natural objects; and, in the second place, to infuse into them, or rather, to cherish in them, the love of investigation."
Charlotte Mason
Every year, come fall, they round up the bison on Antelope Island for a week-long process of inspection, medication, and culling. We did not get to the round up this year but had been planning this trip to see them working the herd for weeks. I was a little concerned when our normally sunny sky forecast called for rain that day but we moved forward with high hopes. When it still wasn't raining when we arrived I was positively giddy. Giddy still, as I swung that camera strap over my neck and went to adjust the settings on the camera. Giddy passed quickly when I saw that big "E" on the screen. Error message.
See, I was rocking this field trip thing. It was on the calendar way in advance. The little girls were up early packing lunches. We got gas. Camera card was downloaded and bag was packed. The misstep in there was forgetting to take the memory card back out of the computer. Insert sharp gasp and dramatic face palm. Not gonna lie, I almost cried actual tears. It takes 40 minutes to drive out from here to the island and they do this whole thing in a day or two.
Sooooo, I pulled myself together and pulled out the world's stupidest smartphone. You'll get the gist anyway. It's more important to just keep telling the story right?
Ok so bison are bovine and technically not buffalo which is apparently the term more correctly applied to the Asian water buffalo family. Nevertheless they ARE the same critter that roamed the open plains of the wild west. We've just been using the wrong name all this time.
These bison are part of a large herd that roam the island. In the fall they open up these feeding corrals to entice them in. When the medical staff and volunteers arrive they begin the sorting process. A few at a time are moved down the narrowing path towards the chute with this "turkey chaser" tractor.
One by one they are shuttled into the chute where the vet scans their chips (microchips, not buffalo chips ; )), assesses breeding status, and administers shots or meds as needed. This all happens in about 90seconds. I am not exaggerating. They actually move them through in less than 2 minutes each.
If the animal is not pregnant for two consecutive years or is not growing at a good rate or in some other way is not up to par they get routed to these holding pens to be sold. This year there was a fire started by lightning on the island that took out some 14k acres of grazing area so more stock than usual are being culled to prepare for winter.
Those that make the cut are sent on their way back out to the open range.
After watching for a while the children got to handle some artifacts from the ranch and roam around. Truly one of the best field trips we have done.
Even with a stupid-phone.
October
Ay, thou art welcome, heaven's delicious breath!
When woods begin to wear the crimson leaf,
And suns grow meek, and the meek suns grow brief
And the year smiles as it draws near its death.
Wind of the sunny south! oh, still delay
In the gay woods and in the golden air,
Like to a good old age released from care,
Journeying, in long serenity, away.
In such a bright, late quiet, would that I
Might wear out life like thee, 'mid bowers and brooks
And dearer yet, the sunshine of kind looks,
And music of kind voices ever nigh;
And when my last sand twinkled in the glass,
Pass silently from men, as thou dost pass.
William Cullen Bryant
Joining Theresa again this week.
Starry Sky Journal 