August 22, 2017
August 21, 2017
The Eclipse
The one thing I remember about the 1979 solar eclipse was reading the directions to make a safe, cardboard, cereal-box eclipse viewer and highly doubting it would work. Here I am thirty-eight years later to tell you that they actually do work, and they are quick to assemble. We put together at least six of them this morning using everything from a cereal box to a music stand to the cylinder that lately held a college diploma.
Needless to say, we had appropriate snacks.
What a blessing to have this event occur during the summer, with all nine children here to view it together. Full attendance for anything is becoming increasingly rare these days.
Even Daddy managed to be home for the great event.
Yet, the eclipse wasn't the main reason he stayed home. Today was also the Feast of Our Lady of Knock, our family's patroness. Most of us were able to get to morning Mass together to celebrate. I couldn't resist snapping this photo of "Piggles" and "Ruff-Tumble." They were so good in church.
Our Lady of Knock--the woman clothed with the sun--pray for us!
August 20, 2017
August 19, 2017
August 18, 2017
August 03, 2017
August 01, 2017
Telling ghost stories
Last night was one of those times when I truly wish I had taken a few more photos. Then you would see how all the children looked gathered around the fire, wrapped in blankets as the sun went down, and telling ghost stories. I like to remind them of my childhood growing up in Woodside. On Summer evenings, no one but the most most unfortunate children would ever be called in before eleven pm. Those of us with understanding mothers would gather on stoops, waiting for the ice cream man's last rounds, telling each other ghost stories.
Sometimes, this could be thrilling--especially if one of the kids had an Irish grandmother who had filled her head with old tales, preferably stories with eyewitness testimony from an aunt or cousin. Other times, it was rambly hogwash, and we would all laugh and make fun of the teller for being so un-scary. Then there were stories that would leave you uneasy, as in that "Summer of Sam" when every side alley or failing street light seemed ominous, and we children shared snippets of stories we'd half heard the adults whispering. On those nights, you would head to bed with thoughts pressing in so heavily that you needed to sleep on the floor of your Mom and Dad's bedroom pretending to be there for air conditioner.
As the twilight grew dim last night and the little outdoor fire blazed up in the hearth, the children begged me for ghost stories. They gathered round in blankets and towels to keep out the chill and the mosquitos. A friend of theirs was with them, waiting to be picked up when her older brother and sister came back from work with our daughter, Marie. We all told story after story, a few from local lore, one or two remembered from my youth, and even a chilling tale adapted from an episode of The Twilight Zone.
At about ten o'clock, Marie texted to say that she and the others were heading home from work. I sent her a reply: "Was telling ghost stories. If you want to scare the daylights out of kids, somehow sneak into the backyard and arrive on the deck from the shadows." Marie, never one who needs much explaining, wrote back, "We're on it."
Within ten minutes, just as I was telling the story of the strange goings on at a French Chateau moved brick by brick to our neighborhood in the 1920s, the three older siblings leaped out from the shadows screaming. We all jumped--even me--and it was as thrilling and hilarious as any end to a night of story telling could ever be. The laughter as they all compared notes and told how they'd crawled on the ground military-style to preserve the surprise was classic. All three were looking sharp in their uniforms from their summer jobs at the country club, but just for that moment, I could see them as children again, having fun by the fire on a summer night.
(Oldest daughter and youngest daughter in firelight.)
July 30, 2017
Fifteen minutes
On this beautiful July Sunday morning, I am watching these two play and thinking about the coming school year. There are so many things to do, so much they all need to learn. My list for each child--and there are six being home educated this year--is long, to say the least.
Sometimes it is easy to feel overwhelmed by the enormity of the task at hand. Yet, two thoughts are shining a light of hope on all those lists. The first is that consistency is better than cramming. If we stick to our tasks with perseverance each day, neither rushing nor lagging, but moving forward at a steady pace, they will get done. The second is that much can be accomplished in fifteen minutes' time. A quarter of an hour a day for each of the 180 days of the school year adds up to 45 hours. So many things fall by the wayside in the rush of a busy day--poetry, scripture study, math facts drills, foreign language vocabulary, art appreciation, memory work. I am going to make a list of little things that deserve our time and make sure they get their fifteen minutes a day no matter what.
Looking back over the past twenty-one years of homeschooling and looking forward to the twelve or so to come, I thank God for the gift of these children and every single quarter of an hour spent with them. If I could do it all over again from the very beginning, I wouldn't change a thing.
July 26, 2017
Peach season
*My husband and eldest daughter thought this was the best cake I ever made--high praise indeed! My guess is that the homemade vanilla ice cream on the side didn't hurt. Here is the recipe for Peach Kuchen.
