Sep012010

Boneset Harvest

Last night was cool enough to warrant two quilts, a delicious weight over my body in the morning.  This afternoon was hot enough to warrant a dip in the river, though by the time we got there it was already late afternoon, and shadows stretched long over the bright water.  The water was vigorously cold, but tolerable and delightful all the same.  We swam for just a little while, then moved to the last spot of sunshine on the shore, soaking up the warmth.

We were surrounded by the herb boneset (Eupatorium perfoliatum) in full bloom, and so we gathered a full bouquet of the spreading clusters of creamy white flowers.  I tinctured it this evening.  It will be ready in time for whatever flu-like illnesses plague us this Winter–according to Medicinal Plants of the Southern Appalachians it “stimulates immune response, helps reduce fevers and eliminates excess respiratory congestion.”  Author Patricia Kyritsi Howell writes that boneset was once perhaps the most commonly used herb in the eastern United States.  I am particularly pleased to add this herb to my little apothecary.

I have yet to harvest elderberries, although it is definitely time.  They droop dark and lush from the shrubs.  When cooked with honey they will make a thick purple syrup that is wonderful for coughs in particular, and whatever ails you in general.  Peaches are still coming in.  And there’s goldenrod and mint to dry for tea this Winter.

It can be overwhelming, all this harvesting work, but nothing gives me such joy as making medicines.  Peach preserves are sublime, but a half-gallon jar of boneset tincture has a different kind of magic to it.  One is sweet, and the other healing.  I think I’m drawn to the healing, though let me assure you, I have my sweet tooth, too.

Aug232010

September Breeze, August Peaches

A September breeze waltzed through this August afternoon.  I recognized it immediately.  I was working in my outdoor kitchen, slicing peach after peach, thumbing out the pits with a satisfying slurp, dipping the flesh in a strawberry vinegar solution.  The breeze had a certain swish, a lift that August breezes  don’t have unless a storm is coming.  But there was no storm coming, and this breeze was playing with the flame on my stove, threatening to blow it out, promising to bring more of the same in just a few weeks.

And so it is that summer really has come to an end, and we are in those in between days, when the leaves begin to thin and last day of swimming is nigh.

After I canned another batch of peaches I took care of a few assorted tasks, all the while hearing the call of the garden.  So down I went to dig up potatoes.  As I did I sang “Erin’s Lovely Home”–an Irish ballad that tells one man’s woes of crossing the Atlantic during a time of famine:  “there were thousands more left upon the shore/ all anxious for to roam and/ leave the land where they were born/called Erin’s lovely home.“  The humble potato, so weighty in the hand, such a blessing to poor farmers, such a loss if the crop were to fail.

Now the Moon rises above the ridge, full and round and gleaming yellow against the thickening blue sky.  Katydids chant in the shadows, and the cool of evening deepens.  Dinner is late, but we will be having our first meal from the finished cob oven tonight.  There is no famine here, and this meal will be worth the wait.

Aug192010

How the Rain Fell Perfectly on my Skin

It is evening.  Dinner has been eaten, and the children are cleaning up, or so we hope, in the kitchen.  The katydids fill the forest with their pulsing chatter.  I’m listening to them, and to Eva Cassidy singing “Kathy’s Song.”  I can’t decide which is more beautiful.  I’ll take both.

Yesterday I picked peaches.  bucket of peaches I missed a bunch, now rotting on the earth, making for some really happy ants, and thought of James and his giant peach.  I realized I shouldn’t really feel guilty about the lost peaches–I couldn’t get to them for several days before hand.  Then I reached into the branches and picked until my bucket was full.  I knew it was the day to can some peaches.  I ended up making peach preserves, keeping the skins on, which made the preserves a rosy golden color.  Very pretty.

peach preserves

We opened a pint jar this morning and spread it over pancakes.  I used yogurt instead of milk in the pancake mix, which makes for a nice tangy pancake, and the peach preserves complimented them perfectly.

Later in the afternoon I went to the garden with my box of seeds.  The clouds were clotting, the breeze brushing tangles out of the air.  Far off to the north I heard thunder like the drum of the storm, pounding the air over and over.   Sky preparations were underway.

I cleared out a small space–half of a vegetable bed–and spread a mesclun seed mix over the soil, then sprinkled more soil over that.  Then I cleared out two rows in the bed below that for beets, pushing the straw mulch up against the calendula plants that have sprawled out from the center of the bed, thrusting my hands deep into the soil, breaking it up, my hands appreciating its rich texture of life.

I gathered what I had weeded and walked over to the chicken coop to give it to the chickens.  The rain began to fall, a steady, easy rain, the edge of a storm, patches of blue still in the sky.  I stood under the big poplar in my bare feet thinking, “somewhere there’s a rainbow” but I didn’t bother to look.  The rain was falling on my seeds, and falling on my arms, on my earth-covered hands, and on the clover at my feet, on the peaches weighing down their branches, and on the blue roof of my home.

There is something perfect about this very imperfect life, there is something  about the rain, falling perfectly upon my skin, and upon the land that I love; there is something that opens up the sky and lets beauty fall where it will, which is everywhere, if you are paying attention.

Aug172010

The three Q’s

There’s a particular podcast I go back to repeatedly when I am frustrated as a homeschooling mother: Krista Tippet’s interview with Adele Diamond, a developmental cognitive neuroscientist, on Speaking of Faith. This particular episode, titled “Learning, Being, Doing: a New Science of Education,” explores how play, sports, music, reflection, and memorization nurture the brain.

Nurture the brain. I love that phrase. When I first listened to this podcast back in November of 2009, I knew nurturing the brain was my primary goal as a homeschooling mother. And I learned that the part of the brain that needs the most nourishment is the prefrontal cortex. Evolutionarily speaking, it’s the newest part of the brain, and the most fragile, and it is responsible for our ability to “pay attention, problem solve, collaborate, and work creatively. Facility in these skills, research shows, is a stronger predictor of success, even academic success, than IQ.”

And here’s what jumped out at me and lingered in my thoughts for days after: Joy nurtures the prefrontal cortex, and stress, even mild stress, shuts it down.

So when I am fighting with McKinley to just finish his math worksheet, I am not nurturing the brain. But when we play a game of rummy, or use math by baking cookies, we are nurturing the brain. Honestly, though, we can’t bake cookies every morning. And rummy will only go so far.

How does one incorporate joy into math practice, other than the obvious baking of cookies every morning?  I’m more of an unschooler than not, but I do believe that self-discipline and daily practice are important.

Make it fun, keep it short, but do it every day.  That’s my goal. Especially for math.

To accomplish this I have an assortment of tools.  I don’t buy into any curriculum (although we will be doing Singapore Math this year).   What I do buy are lots of logic puzzles, analogies, reading detectives, and math puzzles.   It’s clear that these engage the brain and promote high-level thinking skills.   A lot of times we snuggle up together in my bed and do a few in the morning or evening.  Mindware is a great resource for these types of workbooks.

Last year I designed a weekly chart to help me keep up with our daily tasks, and I will  be using these again this year.   I am not a super-organized person, so these charts really help me keep on top of things.  I use them more as a guide than as a rigid structure.  I also redesigned them so that I could include a more rounded account of all our activities—chores, movies, games, etc.

And we play games!  I’ve discovered that my three favorite games of all time all begin with a Q. There’s Qwirkle, which Renee will play with me if I take it easy on her, but nobody else will (because I won’t take it easy on them?).  I’ve introduced Qwirkle to a lot of friends and family, and they’ve all gone out and bought the game.  It really is that fun!  Then there’s Quarto—-a recent purchase that is quick-playing game, perfect for after dinner.  It is billed as “the most awarded game of all time,” and I’ll believe that.  It certainly teaches one to pay attention.  And Quinto, an older game that I can’t find anymore (there’s a new game with the same name that otherwise bears no similarity).  In Quinto there are number tiles, from 0 to 9, and each player draws five tiles from the pile.  Each player must lay down up to 5 tiles on the board, in crossword fashion, and each row must add up to a multiple of 5.  There’s lots of math-thinking in this game!

I suppose we have officially begun our homeschooling year, because Renee has been carrying around the Perplexors workbook, doing logic puzzle after logic puzzle, and not only did McKinley break out the chess game after dinner last night, but he also asked for some math and cheerfully did some reading before indulging in his Star Wars video game.

Now I need to design a weekly chart for myself, so I can keep up with all the things I need to do!

Aug142010

It Was a Private Conversation

I am having a conversation with my husband.  Right now.  I say to him, “You have too many projects going on and you are making me crazy.”

“What are you talking about?”  he spurts.  “We’ve got plenty of time to get everything done!”  He is near-preacher-like in his tone of confidence.

“You used to complain that you never got to lay in your hammock and do nothing. ‘I just want to do nothing’ you would say, over and over,  ‘And I never get to do nothing‘…but look at what you do!  Arghh!  We’ve got the cob oven, the cement floor, and the wall replacement–and all need to be finished yesterday because of your birthday party! It makes me crazy!”

“I know, I know!”  his voice rising with energy.  “I want to get to the point where I can just lay in the hammock—but I’ve just got too much to do!  I have to run around with my hair on fire!  It’s just the way I am!”

My husband is bald.

In eleven days, the esteemed Smoky Joe, handyman extraordinaire, will lumber up our driveway in his big two-tone truck.  He will smoke a cigarette he rolled from Bugler tobacco, drink a stout cup of coffee, then begin tearing down the western wall of our house.  There will be a huge mess in the house and yard.

In fifteen days, we will be throwing his fortieth birthday party.  And before that, we need to finish the cob oven so that we can cook the pizzas for his party.  Oh, and remember that whole demolition, tear-down, chaos everywhere, trash in the yard, wide open spaces in the wall part?  Yeah, so that’s all supposed to be done (and cleaned up?) before the party.

And never mind the whole cement floor thing. That’s at a pausing point, as we can stain and seal it after all this other rigmarole, but there’s still a layer of cement dust on everything and also on the nothing in between everything. I’ve cleaned up most of it at least once, but you have to clean it twice, maybe three times.

And apparently the date for the demolition could have been scheduled a bit differently.  Apparently when Smokey Joe’s right-hand, left-hand woman called to set the date, maybe we could have NOT picked the 23rd, but say, rather, the 30th.

Then he says to me,”All you need you to do is pick out the f*cking windows and the color of the floor.  That’s all I need you to do!  It’s not so tough!”  He says this, not crudely, but joyfully, a ringing happiness as he realizes that this is all I need to do.

They say that the things you love about your partner are later the things that make you crazy.  What they don’t say is that the love and the crazy go together.  It’s not a linear thing.  The longer you are with someone you love, the crazier you get, and the more in love.  Yes, I want to strangle my husband.  But, damn, I love him!  I love the fact that he’s got so much that he wants to accomplish.  I love that he always has a new idea.  I love that he knows how to solve a thousand problems, with ease, that would take me forever to figure out.  I love that he brings me coffee, in bed, every morning.  (Please note that I did not say that he never complains about it.  But really, it’s very rare.)  I love that he is dedicated to changing things up, making things better, people freer, his home happier.

I love that he’s bald.

Happy Birthday, my wonderful husband.  I love you!

Aug112010

Rain, and Other Good Tidings

We spent the day at the river with family. It was a micro-vacation. I let myself do nothing and it was good.   I sat in the middle of the river with my sister and we talked of life while our kids frolicked in the water.  Then I flipped her off of her innertube into the river, which required some chasing, and was ridiculous mischief on my part.  I will pay for it later, I’m sure, and will be paranoid until I do!

Renee at the River
When we came home it was dinner time and Jay was already making it!  Yay!  A terrific rain rolled through–second night in a row–and then my brother called to say that he and his sweet family will be coming for a visit this weekend.  I am thrilled!  I haven’t seen them since May!

Aug092010

Gearing up for another Homeschool Year

Well, it’s that time of year again! The school buses are lumbering down the road, which is my signal to start making some definite lists and plans for a new homeschool year. Then we can ease into a full schedule in September.

I’ve been thinking about what it means to do something every single day. Our piano teacher encourages her students to practice every day. She told us how a famous pianist remarked that if he skipped a day, he could tell a difference in his piano playing. If he skipped two days, his family could tell a difference. And if he skipped three days, the whole world could tell. For awhile we practiced piano every single day, and the results were dramatic. I’ve seen for myself how much easier piano practice is when it’s done every single day, and how difficult it can be when several days are skipped. I want to apply this to our home learning.

So I’ve been rummaging around for ideas of how to practice math, reading, and writing every single day. The math isn’t all that difficult. We are moving to Singapore Math this year, and we can just work on it every day, with just a few problems on the weekends. The kids might balk at this at first, but curiously, the more they practice the less they balk. When we were practicing piano every day there were a few days I forgot until it was past bedtime, but we would sit down and pound away at it, and it wasn’t nearly as difficult as I expect tonight’s practice will be. (While I should be optimistic about this, my previous experience tells me a drink before piano today might not be such a bad idea!)

So math, check. Reading, that’s not really difficult at all. But writing. Writing. Last year I had them write in their journals every day, just a little bit, determined by their skill level. This sounds good, but the reality was more of a rushed practice in simple sentences. I’d rather them engage in writing, find it fun and challenging at the same time. I’m thinking of having them keep a blog. We started this last year, but I opted instead for the handwritten journal. I think this year, since there will be enough laptops about, we might each do a blog entry every night, maybe post a photo and write about it, or just say “today I….”. A sort of diary. Post links to Facebook. The cool thing about facebook and blogs is that they generate comments. Which leads to more writing….

We shall see if this works! There is a level of discipline which I was cultivating early this Summer but which disintegrated in the July heat. I can see it coming back, and I am hopeful! In the meantime, I still have to:

  • Administer the  Singapore Math placement tests
  • Order the appropriate books
  • Sort out what “short classes” we might want to do (videography, pottery, garage band?)
  • Get set up with Rosetta Stone SPANISH
  • Redesign our Homeschool Calendar, which helps us keep track of what we are doing, and what we are not doing
  • Subscribe to Home Education
  • and plan a Homeschooling Meeting for my fellow homeschooling friends!

I’m already excited, and a little anxious!  It’s how every school year begins, no matter where you go!

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