Endless Adventures

The flowers brighten one more time – a farewell to summer. The garden even revives for one more round.

Grandmother’s zinnias are blood red, the marigolds, sunlit orange. The children are barefoot. Feet are dirty always. We too are holding on to the remnants of warmth. The outdoors becomes our living space. We returned to the cabin in the cool and collect the last of summer’s wild flowers, identify them as Southern Obedience and Amelia turns it into a story. That is Labor Day.

We come home, after the beach and the cabin (no pictures of the beach I can’t balance children, belly and camera carefully) and enter into a fierce schedule. George has school, classes to teach, a dissertation to write, job applications and articles and emails to answer. It is a juggling act and it won’t stop until May.

The children and I attempt home learning. We’ve learned that Van Gough painted dark pictures until he discovered a Japanese artist that painted with vibrant colors, so he decided to switch. And he painted with globs of paint. The children liked practicing that! But, two weeks later, I feel like I am still attempting learning at home. And we are, but it is unscheduled and disorganized. Those of you who know me well are not surprised at this.

It is a science lesson with daddy and his battery testing device or biology with the dead squirrel. It is counting eggs and dividing apples. It is deciding on a plan. We sing and learn verses. “Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry. James 1:19” And we discuss the importance of this as quarrels arise in our lives and in the world. It is not what I imagined it to be. It will morph and grow; but for now this is what we do.

We take a day trip to the farm to catch Aunt Mary after she takes her surgeon’s board test. The children play without pause. Amelia’s love for birds has spilled into an obsession for feather collections. The rooster is molting and the feathers are plentiful. George reassembles the skeet shoot; Amelia wants to learn how to play volleyball, George Wilder’s imagination runs wild. We are in heaven. There is even the feasting table -- grandmother's delicious meals! The children nap now and for the first time in weeks, my mind feels alive!

The baby moves and twisted and pushes and kicks. I am slow. I am meditative. In two months from now all of this, as crazy as it is, will have a new angle. It is an endless adventure!


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