Cottage Blessings

Sun-bleached bones, gargoyles, and one unlucky elk

can only mean one thing:

One of my favorite people in the world has a brand new blog!

And the memorable stories are just beginning to pour in!

Watching Birds in the City of St. Francis

I just loved this photograph of Agnes thoughtfully watching birds near San Francisco's soaring Palace of Fine Arts. Since coming here, we have been amazed by how tame and fearless the birds are. Pigeons and starlings, blackbirds and swans approach undaunted, flocking round every outdoor cafe and picnic area. They are used to being fed, of course, but I like to think St. Francis' influence has something to do with it as well.

We have noticed something troubling about the birds though. Many of them, of all types, have foot injuries, often missing toes or hobbling about on one foot. I would be very interested in finding out why this is.

We now return to our regularly scheduled May

We woke from our Midsummer Night's Dream to find ourselves approaching the end of May without having taken a single Nature Walk or, other than our Marian May Baskets, completed any of our planned Marian Crafts. With a few days left, we hope to make up for lost time and began yesterday with a long walk through our favorite local gardens (the place that was the setting for our final performance of A Midsummer Night's Dream last week). Here Maureen and Eileen frolic in front of our dream thatched cottage--it is not our own, but we love it as if it were.

It did my heart good to nurse Eileen at a bench, breathing in the wild bouquet of lilacs, watching red-winged blackbirds, flashing fish, and romping, happy children.

Margaret discovered that the unassuming purple flowers dotting the lawn look like fairies' teddy bears. This little fellow rests on my new pink shawl. According to Agnes, the shawl is "the springtime equivalent of the Irish Walking Cape."

How many more chances will I have to see my older two girls holding hands? This photo seems the perfect symbol of a family growing up--with the older ones setting out toward a bright future and the younger ones not far behind.

How is it possible that a little one who was not even born this time last year could trot all over the gardens with us, looking like some pale purple blossom freshly sprung?

Slow down, Time, slow down! Let me tarry a while here in this place with these children!

Blessed be thou, fair, sweet May!

A Bouquet of Days

Realizing our destruction theme may be growing a bit tiresome, it seems high time for a splash of color. Drawing an idea from the always lovely Kim of Starry Sky Ranch, here is our nod to blooming Pink!

Pink Petals:

Pink Pedaler:

Pink Pregnancy:

Pink Present:

Pink Portrait:

Pink Perspective:

Pink Peaks:

Pink Pallor:

Pink Picture:

Pink Pals:

Pink, Precious:

Pink Partiality:

Pink Playtime:

Pink Pixie:

Pink Palladian:

Pink Pots:

Pink Pet:

Pink Publicist:

Pink Project:

Pink Parting:

Silk Roses in December

"Am I not here, who is your mother?"

--Our Lady of Guadalupe to St. Juan Diego

Yesterday afternoon, Marie sat gazing out the front window. "What's that in the bush?," she asked, pointing. I pressed my face near the glass and could just make out the outline of something pink in our dormant rose bush. "Margaret," I called to one with better eyes than mine, "can you see what is stuck in the rosebush?" She squinted to get a better look and announced, "It looks like a rose."

"A rose?" I said, doubtfully. "It would never be a rose this time of year."

"Well, it looks like one," she insisted.

Sure enough, it did look like a rose, and within a moment one of the children suggested, "It is a rose in December--just like Our Lady of Guadalupe!"

Unlocking the front door, the children all went sprinting out. Theresa was the first to reach the bush, plucking off a perfect, pink silk rose. "It's one of the roses from the wreath," she called across the gray-brown flower bed.

As she held the rose aloft, I readily recognized it as part of the pretty pink wreath no longer on the door. The landscapers had been by to do the winter cleanup in the morning. Evidently, one of them had found an errant rose lying somewhere and stuck it in the bush for safekeeping from the leaf blowers.

I was laughing at this point and feeling a bit silly, because, quite honestly, a part of me had become excited over the prospect of having a full blown rose in the front garden on the Feast of Our Lady of Guadalupe. Standing next to me, Agnes noticed my reaction and asked, "What would you have thought if it had been a rose?"

"I would have thought Our Lady had sent it to let us know how much she loves us."

Agnes considered a moment and asked, "Well, couldn't Our Lady have sent a silk rose?"

[And there you have it, dear friends. As usual, the eyes of children are open and ready to see what we adults too often miss.]

"Yes, Agnes, yes, I do think Our Lady could have sent a silk rose," I smiled, draping an arm around her as we walked back into the house.

The Itsy Bitsy Spider

Why does Eileen look so sad?

Might it be that the sizable spider lurking in the lacey folds of her bassinet is making her a wee bit nervous?
This fellow is large enough to be seen in the top photo.

"Phew! That was a close one!"

*******
3:41 pm, editing this post to add a reference to a much more harrowing spider story.

Late Autumn Field Day

When it comes to fabulous carnivals, we have an embarrassment of riches with the lovely Dawn's Late Autumn Field Day to add to the wonder of it all.

Thank you, Dawn! Your Field Days are always a joy to behold.[Margaret and Marie stroll the grounds of a local nature center in this photo taken yesterday. I love that they still hold hands!]

Nature's secrets revealed

If you look carefully at the uppermost branches of this birch, you may see the outline of a Northern Flicker thrumming the papery limbs to its steady, endless beat.

Our red-headed friend is not the only thing visible now that the last Autumn leaves have tumbled to the ground--please take a look at the world beneath the blossoms in The Cottage Garden.

Skyrockets in flight . . .

afternoon delight!

This is our contribution to the Science Fair Carnival, dreamt up by Dawn and hosted by the infinitely resourceful Stef of The Eclectic Homeschooler. Our family has cheated just a bit, featuring pictures from a science class the children took last week at a local nature preserve. Theresa (11) will narrate from here:

We began by assembling our rockets from a tube, a piece of straw, a strip of metal, three wooden fins, two pieces of string (elastic and teflon), a small blue ring, a premade engine, a nose cone, a paper tab and a streamer. The tube is the body of the rocket; the straw and the metal attach the rocket to the launch pad; the fins help it balance as it flies; the elastic string keeps the nosecone from coming off the rocket; the teflon string keeps the elastic string from burning up; the ring keeps the engine in place; the paper tab keeps the strings in place; the nosecone cuts the air in front of the rocket; the streamer allows you to see where your rocket has landed; and engine provides fuel and force for the rocket. Without the engine, the rocket would not be able to fly.

The launchpad is attached to a remote control. When the button is pressed, the engine within the rocket is ignited, causing it to lift off the ground. Please click here for a video of one of our attempts.

We loved shooting our rockets in this beautiful setting . . .

and, of course, while we were out, we found yet another mantis! They seem to follow us wherever we go!

House pet

The girls neglected to tell me that their praying mantis was loose somewhere in the house. Take a look at where I found him.

When the frost is on the punkin'

Please head out to the Cottage Garden to read Theresa's thoughts on the wonders of Autumn.

Another installment of "The Mantis Diaries"

Jennifer in Austin was kind enough to comment:

"We love the spoon saints and the Shakespearian spoons, as well as the Franciscan birdhouses. However, we REALLY keep checking back for Agnes' Mantis Diaries, Part II! We hope she has time soon.

Ian (9) and Louisa (6)"

Agnes was so honored by Ian and Louisa's request that she set to work immediately on The Mantis Diaries, Part 2--Beech Tree and Renarda.

While you are in the garden, please take a stroll down the path to find Marie's latest quote and yesterday's search and rescue.

Prayerful Pets

Agnes has begun a series of stories and anecdotes about the seven mantises she and her sisters have kept as pets during the past year. Please take a look at The Mantis Diaries, Part 1.

By the way, this is one of my favorite pictures ever. Please click on the thumbnail within the post for a better view of Maureen admiring the flora and fauna inside our house.

Chipmunks

as observed by Margaret and Marie this morning.

Luna-cy

in The Cottage Garden.

More from Agnes

Nature study continues in the Cottage Garden.

A Quiz for Catbirds

Which member of The Odd Couple are you?

From Water Tigers to Tiger Swallowtails

More amateur photojournalism in The Cottage Garden.

Just when you thought it was safe to go back in the water

"Jaws" stalks unwary swimmers in The Cottage Garden.

Peter Rabbit

and New June Blooms in The Cottage Garden.

A battle rages

under our feet in The Cottage Garden.

Tickled Pink

in The Cottage Garden.

The dogwood is dancing

in The Cottage Garden

Sunrise, Sunset

in The Cottage Garden.

Soup's on

and being ladled out al fresco in The Cottage Garden.

Alfred Hitchcock's Muse

returns to The Cottage Garden.

Marie catches snowflakes

in The Cottage Garden.

A Glorified Puddle

A glorified puddle makes a splash at the The Cottage Garden.

On Frozen Pond

Memories of Mallards in March at The Cottage Garden.

The Cottage Garden

Now that you have visited our cottage, we hope you will step outside with us into the garden and perhaps come along for a nature walk or two. The girls and I are collaborating to create an online family nature journal, The Cottage Garden. If you lean in close enough, you just might smell the soft spring earth or hear the hollow thrum of a downy woodpecker . . . .

[photo credit: Rhododendron buds by Theresa, age 10]

Prayers from the Ark

Sunday's readings on Noah's Ark were a timely reminder to me that the Holy Spirit is always with us, even during trips to the library. Just the afternoon before, I had discovered two tattered and unassuming volumes of poetry tucked timidly beside works written by the likes of Robert Frost and John Keats. My first unexpected find was "The Creatures' Choir," translated by Rumer Godden from the original French of the obscure poet, Carmen Bernos de Gasztold. Originally published in booklet form by the Benedictine Abbey at Limon-par-Igny, France, this cluster of poems, presented from the point of view of the animals on Noah's Ark, was rediscovered by Godden, who determined to introduce the work to the English-speaking world.

Far from being sappy or sentimental, The Creatures' Choir" presents the animals' point of view in an authentic and often heart-rending way. Although I have never paused to consider how an animal might "feel," the poetry rings true at every turn. Each individual animal cries to our heavenly Creator with simple faith, confiding in Him its every affliction and aspiration--and oftentimes, the humblest of creatures have the most to say. Here are some examples:

The Toad

Lonely and ugly--
who hasn't a horror
of me, Lord?
Yet my song trills
of an unmalicious heart.
In the night that hides me,
I dedicate
the melancholy chant
of my unwholesomeness
to You, Lord.
Of Your mercy
graciously accept it,
and at last I shall learn
to bear my odium
with love.

Amen.

The Mole

I dig and dig,
looking
for life itself.
You have chosen darkness
for me, Lord,
and my tunnel
lengthens
in cavernous night.
Here and there,
a tiny hillock
shows above ground;
the rest
is buried in deep dark.
A hidden life,
Lord,
but not a poor one--
my velvet coat shows that.
In shadowy gloom
one can walk without presumption
and be perfectly safe--
but the sun
can turn one's head;
Lord, keep me from the vanities of the world,
and guide the strivings
of my little paws
so that they reach
some secret Paradise.

Amen.

The Ladybird

Dear God,
I belong to Our Lady, Your Mother.
That isn't hard to believe;
It's written in my name.
Oh! May my midget
thanksgiving,
the small circles of my flight
across the meadow,
gladden Her heart.
How I love each blade of Your grass!
I love to land there,
resting the happy whirr of my wings--
dotted with small black eyes.
Thank you for having made me
so that no one is afraid of me:
a little toy,
a penny toy,
a mite of comfort and laughter.

Amen.

Rumer Godden notes in the introduction that some of the poetry defied a proper translation. For example, the word "gnat" in French means both "gnat" and "color," so the double meaning intended by the poet is lost to an English speaking audience. Perusing these poems in French would make an excellent addition to our study of the French language.

"The Creatures' Choir," is a companion work to another separate volume, "Prayers from the Ark." My library carried a picture book version, translated by Rumer Godden and beautifully illustrated by Barry Moser. Once again, the poetry is tender and moving, although this time, a human voice cries out to Our Lord as well:

Noah's Prayer

Lord,
what a managerie!
Between Your downpour and these animal cries
one cannot hear oneself think!
The days are long,
Lord.
All this water makes my heart sink.
When will the ground cease to rock under my feet?
The days are long.
Master Raven has not come back.
Here is Your dove.
Will she find us a twig of hope?
The days are long,
Lord.
Guide Your Ark to safety,
some zenith of rest,
where we can escape at last
from this brute slavery.
The days are long,
Lord.
Lead me until I reach the shore of Your covenant.

While we have enjoyed this edition of "Prayers from the Ark" enormously, it only contains selected poems from the original, and I would love to get my hands on an unabridged version.

For more on Noah's Ark, take a look at Jan Brett's site for patterns to make a mural with your children. Needless to say, Jan Brett's lavishly illustrated version of the story is not to be missed. I also found a site with a fun online matching game, not to mention a wildly expensive, but well worth a glance page of heirloom Noah's Ark toys. These remind me of the handcarved Noah's Arks early American children were allowed to play with once a year on Christmas!

Several years ago, by the way, my husband surprised me for Mother's Day with Rien Poortvliet's gorgeous and glossy masterpiece, Noah's Ark. Each animal is presented in fine detail, making it a perfect book to pore over with young ones. Normally, because it is quite expensive, I would not recommend it for purchase, but it is currently marked down significantly.

Under Our Lady's Mantle

I just couldn't resist posting this image of the perfect day--blue skies and a blanket of white!

A Gift for the Amateur Naturalist

Were it not for the $65 pricetag, at least half a dozen friends of mine who would get a laugh upon receiving this Anna Botsford Comstock doll and book. Anna Comstock is the author of the indispensable classic Handbook of Nature Study. No home educator's resource collection should be without it.

The Centenary of a Country Diary

This year marks one hundred years since skillful nature enthusiast Edith Holden fashioned her "Nature Notes for 1906," later published in facsimile as The Country Diary of an Edwardian Lady. We began new 2006 nature journals yesterday, inspired by Miss Holden's appealing artwork, meticulous notes, and heartening quotations and poetry.

We also made the notable discovery that Noritake once manufactured a china pattern featuring Miss Holden's work called "Country Diary of an Edwardian Lady." It is available in both octagonal and round shapes. What an enchanting outdoor teatime these pieces would make!

"Sharp little pale green points"

Churlish January stepped aside today in deference to his fair sister, May. We spent the day wrapped in her warm embrace, stumbling upon signs of spring in the dead of winter.

******

"There had once been a flowerbed . . . and she thought she saw something sticking out of the black earth--some sharp little pale green points. She remembered what Ben Weatherstaff had said and she knelt down to look at them.

"'Yes, they are tiny growing things and they might be crocuses or snowdrops or daffodils,' she whispered.

"She bent very close to them and sniffed the fresh scent of the damp earth. She liked it very much.

"'Perhaps there are some other ones coming up in other places,' she said. 'I will go all over the garden and look.'"

--The Secret Garden

"Yes, we have snow days . . . ."

I will be the gladdest thing
Under the sun!
I will touch a hundred flowers
and not pick one.

I will look at cliffs and clouds
with quiet eyes,
Watch the wind bow down the grass,
and the grass rise.

And when the lights begin to show
up from the town,
I will mark which must be mine,
and then start down!

"Afternoon on a Hill" by Edna St. Vincent Millay

Every now and then, a new acquaintance will discover that we home educate and make the natural observation, "Well, I guess the children don't get snow days then." I usually nod and assent, adding something expected like, "No, you're right, there really is no need for them." Yet, as often as this exchange has taken place, I have always felt a pang of guilt--the internal recognition that I am not being honest. To be truly candid, I would need to say, "Actually, the children have never missed a snow day in their lives. As a matter of fact, not only do they have snow days, but they also have crisp autumn sunrises, rainy afternoons, and glorious spring mornings. Sometimes a ray of sunshine peeking through a well-placed window pane is enough to set me packing a picnic and our journals to head for places known and unknown with my little troupe of companions. In fact, once the spring thaw hits, you would be hard pressed to find us home at all."

This surprising speech would, I am sure, raise eyebrows, but it would probably be met with sincere interest as well. My new friend would want to know how the children are to become educated with so many days spent outdoors, particularly unplanned days.

In our home, when things go well, education is a seamless part of everyday life. Books are read and discussed because they are on everyone's mind, poems are memorized because poetry is delightful, nature is studied because nature is intriguing, history is learned because history is engrossing, writing is practiced because writing is indispensable, and religion is embraced because Religion is everything. Learning cannot be contained in the four walls of our little learning room. If anything, it is nurtured and enhanced by the bracing effect of fresh air, the stimulation of a change of scenery, and the endless fascination afforded by God's natural world.

Sometimes, when one of my children returns rosy and breathless to tell me about something she's discovered during our visit to the seashore or a formal garden, my fancy turns to the beloved storybook character, Heidi, lingering in the brisk Alpine air, glorying in sunsets, and gathering blossoms in her skirt, always breathless to tell the Grandfather everything and seek his explanations. Was she learning more with the benevolent tutor in the rich house in Frankfurt? Some, I suppose, might think so.

I remember our beloved Pope, John Paul the Great. No one doubts that he was one of the greatest intellectuals of all time, yet, until illness imposed the indoors upon him, he remained an avid hiker, swimmer, skier, and sportsman. Some of the most moving pictures ever captured on film show our Pope, absorbed in his Rosary and hiking outdoors, his spang new white sneakers a perfect compliment to his spotless Papal robes. As a young priest determined to reach the hearts and minds of college students, Father Wojtyla's classroom was the rivers and fields and slopes of Poland, and he fashioned his ministry around kayaking, skiing, and woodland walks. This was a man who understood the human spirit, and his students never forgot him or his teaching.

Our learning room is a cozy place and many productive hours are spent there. Letters are learned and times tables mastered; projects are produced and folders are filled. Still, children need sunshine and showers and snow and slippery sidewalks. Providing this for them is one of the privileges and pleasures of home education.