Showing posts from March, 2013

My Easter

Last week, there was this moment. I was rocking William to sleep in my arms and a poem formed through jumbles of thought. It isn't that I don't see the importance of celebrating newness and that I don't love a good Easter egg hunt. As a matter of fact, the first Easter egg William picked up on our hunt was plastic purple with jelly beans in side and I love Robins Eggs (the malted chocolate crunchy ones!) The freedom to love and laugh and walk though life enjoying celebrations with our friends is what I feel Easter to us. Because deep down, I know I am loved by the master of the universe in the most deep passionate way and because of that . . . My Easter My Easter is not pastel. It is not a yellow number 5 Starburst Jelly Bean In a purple plastic egg Buried in green strips of plastic grass. It isn’t a cheap chocolate bunny Wrapped in yellow foil Wrapped in plastic and paper With big white fluffy raised words -- The Easter Bunny. My Easter

Meet Dread Scott and Homer Plessy

We hauled into March excited for spring. Spring break, warm weather and gardening. We immediately had to slam on the breaks with freezing temperatures, and a full house of the flu. It could have been much worse, however, it wore us down and suddenly keeping up with the laundry and dishes and dailiness was a bit heavy and I slid into bed soon after tucking kiddos in for the night.  Ideas and dreams and moments jump in and out of my mind and I forget to write and wish I had and then more time slips away, so here are words and pictures and hopefully it will not be as hard to sit back down again the next time.    Projects Amelia wants to sew and build and mix and stir and create. She sewed this hat for George Wilder. He wears it quite proudly and all the time! She just wrote a song about the a queen coming for a visit. The queen would bring her daughter MaryAnna and we would all put on our finest clothes and eat on little dishes. Farm Life We have new friends here

A Week's Worth

We can't get enough of Farmer Boy. It has been our favorite by a long shot. George and I try to beat each other to the read with the kids. Today the chapter is "Christmas". Amelia says, "Mama, I've got to read this one with Daddy." We read so much. Reading with the children means answering piles of questions, but not with Farmer Boy. Laura Ingles Wilder knew that children needed to know things. She gives detailed explanations of that which needs explaining. And she gives imaginative play a huge boost and her description of chores make them seem like the best thing ever!  As long as George Wilder can wiggle, he can listen. I'm the same way. Wiggling is good. He hangs like a monkey from the trampoline while Daddy and Amelia read and read and read. We've read so much lately. We've read about the American Indians, the Revolutionary War, the Aztecs, the Mayans, Louis and Clark. They are so very curious and intrigued. We recently read about John Pau