Friday it was cold, extremely cold, mind numbingly, bone chillingly cold.
Saturday it was warmer, cheerily warmer, ice thawingly, mud meltingly warmer.
Today it was Springtime, bright blessed springtime, birds singingly, pipes burstingly springtime . . . .
That's right dear friends, the theme for this week is: MASSIVE DESTRUCTION.
It seems, horrified readers, that a pipe froze on Friday, thawed on Saturday, and proceeded to rain down on our furniture and books for, oh, about a day and a half.
The girls had been looking for a diversion this afternoon and asked permission to go next door to the cottage to make fairies. Moments later, the ill-fated party returned bellowing and breathless, barely coherent with cryptic ejaculations of "hissing sound!" "ceiling down!" and "sopping books!"
Dh and I sprang to our feet and were standing amidst the wreckage in a trice, not believing our eyes. Part of the ceiling had collapsed, the paint on the walls was bubbling, my wooden furniture was peeling, and our school books, notes and projects looked like noodles in a can of Campbell's. I think if the Superintendent of Public Schools could have shown up at that moment (preferably toting a chainsaw, or maybe just a really rusty pencil sharpener), we would have had all the elements of the perfect homeschooler's horror movie.
Here are some spine-tingling previews of the would-be flick now:







Here is a bit of melodrama for you: Do you see the soaking white pouch on top of "The Wheels on the Bus"? (Bottom Left.) It is one of the bags from "A New Beginning."

This Hail Mary Angel was a gift from our beloved neighbors when we moved from our old house. With a bit of cleaning up, she will return to her rightful place of honor in our learning room:

The funny part is--and I do not know why--this does not bother me! Yes, I was sorry to lose the books, particularly the children's projects (a year's worth of Agnes' artwork for example, not to mention a book of religious poetry inherited from my father), but isn't this really why Our Lord said:
"Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and decay destroy, and thieves break in and steal. But store up treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor decay destroys, nor thieves break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there also will your heart be." Mt. 6: 19-21.
Honestly, I am not at all trying to sound saintly or sanctimonious. (Truth be told, much of my calm comes from the naive belief that a good portion of this will be paid by our insurance company. Believe me, if my photo albums had been on those shelves I would have cried like a baby.) Still, maybe I am becoming a bit more mature. Perhaps, after thirty-nine years of seeing objects come and go, I am finally figuring out how not to put too much of my heart into things that are passing away with all speed. Seeing my husband set to work hauling and hefting, mopping and airing, all I could think about was the blessing it is to have a sturdy and steadfast husband--my prayer is that our problems may always be this inconsequential!
As for the books, I was starting to feel that our curriculum lacked pizzazz this year. There is no doubt--none whatsoever--that, freed from the bondage of certain Math, Language Arts, and Spelling standards, we will have more time to pursue the things we *love,* and learning will go on. It will flourish like a tree newly pruned.
I am seeing lots of Montfort, Montgomery, Shakespeare, Homer, Comstock, Caroll, and Keats in our future. Rejoice with us!
*******
A word to MacBeth: Do you see that sopping pile of books? The ones on the very top of the right hand bookshelf in the first picture? Well, that's the Jacques Cousteau trilogy you sent home with Patrick last Halloween. We will not be returning them, but I think you will agree that at least they met a fitting end.
Most hilarious phrase choice of the day: A dear friend called to see if we would still be getting together tomorrow. I told her my sob story, and she was very understanding. "It's OK," she said, "we'll take a rain check!"