Eating our dragons

Lately the air has turned chill, and the last few days the wind has been blowing a bit wild.  There is a definite bite to it.

The cats picked up on the seasonal change immediately.  They've been running wildly through the garden and bushes, up and down the trees, and throughout the house in the middle of the night.  They've been climbing up the bookshelves, knocking things off, and chasing each other across our beds while we sleep.  When they woke me that first night, I wondered what had gotten into them.  But the next day it was obvious to everyone.

The wind has gotten inside them.

This same wind, the one that takes gentle cats and turns them into demons possessed, seems to have also gotten into my children.  Not one of them could sit still the last few days.  They were looking for reasons to argue with each other, with me, even with themselves.  I was bewildered by their change in behavior until I looked at the calendar and realized that it was the end of September already.

The wind, the sudden bite in the air, Michaelmas... it all adds up.


After much dragon-like ado this week, Friday we settled back down to our normal routines.  Then in the afternoon I told them a story, and we made dragon bread.  Everyone worked with such care and creativity on their breads, shaping their dragons just so.  I think these are the loveliest dragons yet-- so different from each other.

And that's how it should be.  We each have our own dragons, our own short-comings, our own temperaments.  And when they get the best of us, we have to slay them.  Only then can our true selves, our golden goodness shine through.

The first picture below shows all five dragons, while the second picture shows just the kids' dragons.  The last picture is after baking.

The main lesson work this week was perfect for Michaelmas.  I wish I could say I planned it that way, but it was all sheer coincidence.  Sunburst learned about the reformation and how Martin Luther stood up to the wicked pope Leo X.  Moonshine finished the tale of the Ramayana and Rama's fight against Ravana and his league of demon warriors-- very much like dragons themselves.  Kitty Bill's story was much more mild.  He heard the story of Mother Holle, a perfect example of two types of behavior.  I love that the second sister started out with good intentions-- I will work hard!  But even by the second day those intentions were overcome by her own laziness.  Who can't relate to that?!

Kitty Bill helped me make the golden rice, a regular tradition for Michaelmas-- rice cooked with turmeric. With Einstein's help in the kitchen, Moonshine treated us to a mesmerizing Indian-themed meal of Chana Masala and a variation of Korma that she called Hanuman's Delight.  One taste and we could all see that it was aptly named; it was so delicious!

Now that the weather has had a few days to work within our spirits, the cats seem to be quieting down.  I hope the children aren't too far behind.

Seven days of summer

We just experienced seven days of sunshine here in England.  I feel a petty and ridiculous need to document it, but there it is.  Our summer sunshine finally came.  It lasted for seven days.  Then it started raining.  Again.

I think something must happen to a person's brain when they're required to live through three and a half months of crappy, wet weather that encroaches into the middle of summer.  It's no secret that it rains in England; you can sense it in the British mindset-- keep calm, carry on, stiff upper lip and all that.  But this year, even the locals are weary.  When we heard the jet stream shifted and there was the barest glimmer of hope that England might actually see some sunshine, the locals hesitated.  They only spoke about it in whispers, as if mentioning the possibility aloud would jinx it.

I can't blame them.  England had floods and tornadoes and Texas-sized hailstorms this year.  I kid you not.  Hail the size of baseballs fell on Leicester, a city that has me stumbling over the pronunciation like a true American.  We had hail at our place too.  Not rip-the-roof-and-siding-off-your-house-and-crack-the-birds-out-of-the-trees hail, like the kind that destroyed our house in Texas eight years ago.  Leicester got that kind.  But still, our hail was big enough to shred the carport roof.

If truth be told, that was my last straw with this England summer and the impetus to pack bags and head to Italy.  England saw rain the entire week we were gone, and the weather was just as miserable when we returned.   It was oddly validating, that weather.  But remarkably, a week later the sun came out.  We went from mid-60s to mid-80s, and there was nary a cloud in the sky.  It felt unprecedented.  All that complaining and whining and pouting was for naught.  Summer came, and I actually felt guilty for running off to Italy.  I felt guilty for my impatience with England while everyone in the US was enduring sweltering heat.  I felt guilty for my indulgence.

Well, seven days of sunshine does not a summer make.  While the clear skies held out just in time for the Olympic opening ceremony, the weather turned chill yesterday.  The dark clouds rolled in, and the sky opened up.  Surely  it was all that drumming at the ceremony.  If anything was going to beg for more rain, why not that?

Now that my Italian-holiday guilt has passed, damped down even further by today's intermittent downpours, I'm ready to share a few more pictures of our week in Italy to bring my tally of sunshiny summer days to a whopping grand total of 14.  After leaving the medieval, hilltop village we boarded two trains and stepped off the tracks in a very special place.

Venice, the city of light.

It was also a city in the possession of immense power and influence during the late middle ages to the renaissance, so it was a bit of a homeschooling field trip to boot.  But I'm not going to feign that my intentions were purely educational-- it's Venice!  It has been on my list of places to visit for as long as I can remember.

Perhaps it was a combination of the sun and the wine and the reflective quality of the water, but it left me speechless.  I'm not even going to try to capture it in words.  And the pictures hardly do it justice.

Venice by day.

Venice by night.

We saw the sights... including the Piazzale San Marco.

We saw the gondolas... and then had a little ride.

 It even rained once, and hard, for about fifteen minutes.

But even that wasn't terrible.  We hid out under an alcove and waited for it to stop.  And then the kids splashed happily in the Venetian puddles.  Without wellies.  A week without wellies felt celebratory, indeed.

Accidentally showing up in the middle of the Venetian Festa del Redentore means that Venice comes with fireworks.  Completely unplanned.  Incredibly amazing.  Fortuitous and resplendent.

It made up for the terrible English weather and then some.

Medieval Faire

 

Several weeks ago we had the opportunity to attend a Medieval Faire at some beautiful castle ruins.  The grounds were staffed with a reenactment troupe, and they had many different activities going on.  Although my primary intention was to bring a nice end to Sunburst's study of the middle ages, there was something fun for everyone.  It was a really grand day.... and it didn't rain once!

First of all, the castle itself was fantastic to behold.

 

 

 

 

There was an immaculate Elizabethan garden filled with herbs and flowers.  At the far end of the garden is a large cage filled with a few local birds, including pheasants.  We felt a bit sorry for them having to live in such a small cage.

Then there were the reenactments.  They had some kind of show going on every half hour, from trials to jousts to exhibitions.  Canons were fired, and soldiers made quite a show marching around in their armor.

My favorite part was walking around talking to the reenactors.  Some of them were very well informed about their time period, especially the map-maker and the stained glass-maker.  I was so absorbed in the conversations I missed the opportunity to take many pictures.  However, here are a few examples of the things we saw:

Canon ball carving.

 

Arrow making.

Cart building.

 

The games tent, where Kitty Bill was completely absorbed in a game of Glückhaus.

  

 

Medieval music on the recorder.

 

Cooking, in all it's manifestations.

 

I did manage to take a couple of pictures at the mapmaker's tent, two that I was really excited to share with you all.  Remember the measurement block from Waldorf Grade 3 where children learn the earliest forms of measurement?  Moonshine saw this picture that the mapmaker had drawn and nearly jumped up and down about it.  It's a furlong!!

What a great image for the main lesson book, no?  I will definitely be drawing from this when it's Kitty Bill's turn to do measurement.

The mapmaker was so impressed that Moonshine knew what a furlong was, and of course this tickled Moonshine to no end.  Then the mapmaker showed Moonshine an antiquated chain and quizzed her on how many chains make a furlong, and so forth.  You can see the chain on the left.

 

I think it's pretty telling that of all the attractions of the day, this was the crowning glory.  As homeschoolers, we put forth so much effort into creating a sense of understanding within our children.   It's not often that we get to see some of the archaic knowledge come spilling back out of them.  The wonder and recognition was really palpable in that moment.  Rods and chains and furlongs-- they really do exist!

As for Sunburst, she wandered off after the jousting display, and we knew exactly where we'd find her.  We only had to follow the scent of horses...

 

 

On our way out, the girls and I ran into the shoemaker's tent and ended up in a lengthy discussion about the proper way to make shoes in the middle ages.  We watched him work for quite awhile, and it was so fascinating!  The girls had endless questions, but I finally had to pull them away for the long drive home.  I'm sure it's a day that they won't soon forget.

Santa Lucia morning

Unexpected joy... and a winner!

Last night we went out to buy our Christmas tree.  To be honest, I wasn't that excited.  I had been lamenting the fact that despite talking about it for the last three Christmases, we still haven't found the place where you can go out into the wilderness and cut down your own.  I've heard it exists, but knowing something exists here and finding out just where it exists are two very, very different things.

There are lots of places to buy trees here-- outside grocery stores with garden centers, outside some churches, and at small village fairs.  But if you want to save about 40 dollars, you can also buy a tree at IKEA.  Last night was the beginning of IKEA's tree sales this season, and that's where we headed.

We had broken most of our drinking glasses, so we had to first walk through the winding path of the store.  As we were nearing the stairs we heard singing.  It was very soft at first, but then it expanded and filled the room before us and took our breath away.

There must have been thirty or more children of varying ages all dressed in white carrying candles.  In the center of this mass of sweet voices was an older girl dressed up as Santa Lucia, her crown of candles blazing bright.  The little boys wore cone hats and carried star wands, like the picture for January (one of my favorites, as shown above) from Elsa Beskow's Around the Year.  They sang about five songs, including Santa Lucia, and then slowly, still singing, they padded barefoot out of the room and down some mysterious hallway.

It was so unexpected and breath-taking, and it actually brought tears to my eyes.  My children had all rushed over to get a closer look, and they came back to where Einstein and I stood, their eyes bright, their faces glowing.

Unexpected joy.  At IKEA.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

And... we have a WINNER!  I'm pleased to announce that the children have pulled a name out of the hat.  We will be mailing off the mobile and chocolates to:

erin said...

She's just adorable! I'm so glad to have come across your blog. Swiss chocolates too sound simply divine. Congrats on 300 posts.

Thanks everyone for your lovely comments!  Having a giveaway was so much fun, I'm sure we will be doing it again soon.

Until next time, I'm wishing you unexpected joy... you never know where you'll find it!

Thoughts on St. Niklaus Day

"Kind old man, St. Nicholas dear,
Come to my house this year."
-from Mary Thienes-Schunemann's The Christmas Star

My children had a wonderful time discovering treats in their shoes this frosty morning.  Kitty Bill was especially excited because in his short memory there was only one other St. Nicholas Day, last year.  It's so wonderful when their memories start sticking together because that's when the anticipation really starts to take on a life of its own.

Last night they carefully selected carrots and apples for his horse, and Moonshine insisted they leave out a bit of chocolate for St. Nicholas to enjoy himself.  In their boots this morning they each found a clementine, peanuts, and some chocolates.  That's pretty standard fare for Switzerland, but even in the states, St. Nicholas left some variety of nuts, fruit, and chocolates.  But as I understand it, St. Nicholas Day is actually celebrated in a variety of ways here in Switzerland.

 

According to my neighbors, St. Nicholas makes an appearance in our village on the night of December 5th.  All of the children come, and they sit and listen as he tells a story.  He also calls each and every one of them out on their behavior, both good and bad.  And at some point-- I'm not sure if it's at home in their shoes or at this event, they are given a sack of peanuts and clementines.

Another Swiss friend said that St. Nicholas makes an appearance at their house, coming round to greet their child.  I don't know how it goes there with the shoes or not, but I find it all very interesting.  It seems much more of a personal experience here than our typical shoes and stockings celebrations.  After all, this is their Santi Klaus... kind of.... at least some of them call him that.  The more I learn about our cultural differences, the more there is to learn.

For example, the other night we braved the below freezing temps and enjoyed the Christmas market in Basel, Switzerland.  It just happened to be the night of their traditional Niggi Näggi, a parade of decorated Harley Davidson motorcycles ridden by Santas.  Santas on Harleys.  Strange, no?

However you celebrate this special day, I'm wishing you joy.

Have you seen Jack-in-the-Green?

Thomas Crane & Ellen Houghton, London Town, 1883


I was just over at A Polar Bear's Tale-- she is always putting such inspiring artwork up-- when this one in particular caught my eye. I had no idea that Jack-in-the-Green was associated with the first of May. To me it has always been a song... still remembered from childhood. And always, it makes me think of my dad.

He and I were blessed enough to see Jethro Tull play live, twice. Though my dad has been gone six years this May, I can still hear him singing along.

I found a nice little video of Jethro Tull singing Jack-in-the-Green, 1982.

May Faire, sort of

Today... nonstop rain. All this week, rain.

I'm so glad we weren't counting on today to do anything special. In fact, we had a pretty awesome celebration last weekend. One of our dearest friends was in town, along with her baby, and the glory of May was already here.

The fields were bursting with dandelions, laughing children, and song. We made daisy chain garlands and dandelion garlands, picnicked in the yard, made a visit to the Goetheanum and castle ruins, and picnicked again by the river. It was a gorgeous and soul-filling weekend, ending with a trip to the Black Forest where we hugged our goodbyes.

There's nothing like surprise visits from an old friend, laughing late into the night, and for the first time seeing her features reflected in the shining face of her child. It was a weekend we'll treasure for a long, long time.