This post needs to be green. This whole blog ought to be green today, but I can either play with templates or write a post.
Green is the color of Ordinary Time, and according to the liturgical calendar, that’s what begins today: ordinary time. I love ordinary time. The holidays are officially over. For many of you, they may have ended a week ago, but for us the holiday season rolls along until the Feast of the Epiphany, which was observed yesterday. But now the Christmas decorations and all their accompanying excitement are packed away for another eleven months, and the quieter pleasures of humdrumity are upon us once more.
Ordinary Time is like returning to a nice steady beat after a rousing drum solo. I married a drummer; I can appreciate the merits of a good drum fill. But a steady background rhythm has a merit of its own: a comfortable reliability, like a heartbeat. And that’s where we are today. Today we return to the ‘normal’ stuff: nature walks, Flylady, board games, historical fiction, a new artist with whom to get acquainted, a new symphony ditto, occasional tea times, poetry, birdwatching. Each child has her own set of plans. Yesterday Jane plastered a new notebook with stickers in anticipation of some happy quote-collecting. The fancy gel pens her aunt and uncle gave the girls for Christmas have inspired her to capture some favorite passages (mostly from the Redwall books, I’m told) in sparkling, mother-blinding color. She also intends to devote a span of time every morning to practicing her drawing, following the advice of her drawing guru, Mark Kistler
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Rose has taken over the filling of bird feeders and wants to ‘learn everything there is to know about birds,’ so she informs me. Beanie wants what Beanie always wants: stories, Sculpey, and snuggling. She’s a girl after my own heart. Wonderboy has no plans that I’m aware of, but his therapies will provide the bassline that anchors our schedule. And there’s a homeschoolers’ astronomy class planned, and weekly visits to the city rec center for the homeschoolers’ games day. Not Too Much Stuff: just enough to keep us contentedly busy.
For my family, this mellow rhythm will continue (barring unexpected health crises or other shakeups, which, by now, I have pretty much come to expect) for about three months past Ash Wednesday and through Lent to early April, when (presumably) the new baby will arrive. I like a nice three-month chunk of time. It’s a season-sized piece of the calendar; it’s just the right amount of time for beginning and completing new projects. I have a patchwork blanket planned, a novel to wrap up, and a small stack of books I’d like to finish reading before my arms fill up again. We’re all re-energized and ready to slip back into the comfortable beat of Ordinary Time, the pleasant iambic pentameter of the year.
January 8, 2006 @ 5:50 am | Filed under:
Art In case you missed this in the comments section, Ann suggested a terrific alternative to the painting boards I mentioned in my art supplies post:
For painting boards, I bought 3 large plastic food service trays for about a dollar each from our local university surplus store. Each one can hold a large sheet of watercolor paper nicely and the low rim all around catches any dribbles. The quirky part is that they all have the word “Nourishment” written on them with permanent marker. I guess the trays were used by the Univ. Hospital’s dietetics department in their previous life. We just laugh and agree that painting is a *very nourishing* pursuit!
Thanks for the tip, Ann!
From G. K. Chesterton’s Charles Dickens, the Last of the Great Men
No man ever encouraged his characters so much as Dickens. “I am an affectionate father,” he says, “to every child of my fancy.” He was not only an affectionate father, he was an ever-indulgent father. The children of his fancy are spoilt children. They shake the house like heavy and shouting schoolboys; they smash the story to pieces like so much furniture. When we moderns write stories our characters are better controlled. But, alas! our characters are rather easier to control. We are in no danger from the gigantic gambols of creatures like Mantalini and Micawber. We are in no danger of giving our readers too much Weller or Wegg. We have not got it to give. When we experience the ungovernable sense of life which goes along with the old Dickens sense of liberty, we experience the best of the revolution. We are filled with the first of all democratic dontrines, that all men are interesting; Dickens tried to make some of his people appear dull people, but he could not keep them dull. He could not make a monotonous man. The bores in his books are brighter than the wits in other books.
And also:
Dickens’s art is like life because, like life, it is irresponsible, because, like life, it is incredible.
"Mommy, I want to be a coconut. No wait—I mean a fairy."
January 6, 2006 @ 9:26 am | Filed under:
Clippings I think this is beautiful, and not just because she’s my best friend.
As time goes on, I am realizing more and more how important and unrepeatable these moments are with the children. I have been trying to say “yes” when they let me know they want my company. “Yes” when Patrick requests to sit on my lap while he watches a Kipper video, “yes” when Theresa asks to read me three chapters in a row of “Howliday Inn,” “yes” when Agnes slips downstairs to have a chat past bedtime, and “yes” when Margaret needs me to choose the colors for her latest artistic masterpiece. Nothing could be more important or worthy of my time.
It is an honor to be on the A-list of such great people.
January 6, 2006 @ 4:44 am | Filed under:
Clippings Kimberly of Number 2 Pencil and Dave of Garfield Ridge ponder the connection.
“Mommy, please check to see if we have Crispix. If we do, pour me a bowl. If we don’t, don’t.”
January 5, 2006 @ 2:34 am | Filed under:
Clippings just found this weblog:
homeschooling mother captures
her days in haiku
(HT: Karen Edmisten)
