And yet there was so much poetry in our day!
Great rabbit trails today. We read Blake’s “The Tiger” this morning because the picture in the anthology (whose name I can’t remember and it’s in the other room–the Oxford Something Something, maybe?) caught Rilla’s eye. However, the shivery language of the second half was rather drowned out by Huck’s Very Noisy Firetruck and also by Very Noisy Huck. Sorry, Tyger.
Serendipitiously, we happened upon a quote from another Blake poem later during a chapter of Susan Wise Bauer’s The Story of the World (Early Modern Times). We’ve been exploring the Victorians, remember, as we enjoy The Strictest School in the World (Rubberbones is just sailing off the roof of the church toward the crowded village green), and today we read a little about the start of the Industrial Revolution, and the smoke-spewing factories blackening the walls of formerly charming English cottages. This grim depiction of the perils of profit-driven industrialization posed an interesting contrast to yesterday’s chapter of Landmark History, in which clever Eli Whitney devises a way to mass-produce guns in a time when foreign armies are threatening this under-armed fledgling country. The ensuing discussion carried us all the way to lunchtime. Rose and Beanie told me this is why they prefer for me to read history books aloud to them—because of our talks. Which of course you know makes me deliriously happy. Even if the firetruck noise is hard to overtop, sometimes.
(I did eventually remember we had newish play-doh and that successfully distracted the young fireman.)
(Who, by the way, turned TWO yesterday. Can you believe it? Seems like only weeks ago I was posting in disbelief about his first birthday.)
Meanwhile, Jane finished Othello today. (Speaking of plans ganging terribly, terribly agley.) And Wonderboy enjoyed a nice big dose of Frog and Toad. Because really, who doesn’t?
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