Blessed Words

Give, and it will be given to you. A good measure, pressed down, shaken together and running over, will be poured into your lap.

Luke 6:38

What To Do?

I don't like getting dirty. I don't like icky things. I don't like slimy textures.

That has made the past couple of weeks a bit difficult, as the front porch has been occupied by some uncooperative residents who are pushing my limits of gross-tolerance.

It wasn't meant to be this way. These little residents were supposed to grow, transform, and amaze. They were supposed to inspire us with their beauty and add vitality to our lives.

Instead we got this:

A tropical milkweed that was stripped of its leaves by the 6 resident caterpillars within a week of bringing it home. We went traipsing into the Old Grove to see if the common milkweed we'd seen last year was still there, pulled some leaves and brought them home to our hungry caterpillars.

The first caterpillar had by now pupated and was hanging from a leaf in a pale green chrysalid, but as the supply of leaves was so scant for a day or so, another caterpillar ate away the entire leaf, leaving the chrysalid hanging precariously from the leaf rib.

A phone call was placed to a friend who lives in a lovely rural setting, asking for help; she found three plants growing at the back of their property, dug them up, brought them to us. We planted them in the garden, hoping to be able to maintain a supply of leaves for the remaining critters.

As the first chrysalid hardened, we noticed that it wasn't right. Its shape was slightly warped; it had a dent in the side. Concern for that monarch's survival began. Today, after its hanging for over 3 weeks, our hopes for it maturing to an adult monarch are gone. What is left of him is a discolouring, very sad looking chrysalid, a mockery of the jewels we had last year.

The second caterpillar to pupate found a safe spot on a twig, but recently fell to the floor of the mesh monarch cage.

A third enterprising caterpillar climbed to the top of the cage, hung there, formed a "j" and pupated, suspended from the mesh. This one still looks a bit promising, but hope is pretty thin right now.

His little friend followed his example and suspended himself from the ceiling of the cage. However, he wasn't strong enough to maintain his life through the days needed to pupate and died there.

So I'm stuck. I don't like these little dead bodies in my front porch, so I want to toss the whole works. But there's the possibility that one of them might still make it, so I want to keep it going. If I try to clear out the debris it's likely that I'll knock that last chrysalid from its anchor.

Truly, the whole thing is quite disturbing to look at, and while I can't bring myself to dispose of it all for the sake of that one little fellow, I'm repulsed by it every time I go into the front porch and think of visitors coming to the door and being greeted by this sight.

What to do?

Greek Art

Last spring, in our last art class of the 2008-2009 school year, the children worked on Greek vases. They learned about the old and new style of art (black on orange, and orange on black) on pottery and began their studies in preparation for working on an actual vase.

These are some of the pictures from the students in the art class:

Then came the process of transferring the drawing onto the vases. The children worked in pairs or threes, according to family, with an old style illustration and a new on each vase. Detailed pictures were painstakingly produced with tiny brushes, dentist's tools, and black paint.

Working in pairs was awkward at times, because it wasn't possible to tilt the vase to get a better angle without warning the other painter, but the children made it work!

Here you can see some of the intricate work that was produced in the old style.

And here is a new style design done by My Girl (soldier and laurel wreaths):

On the reverse is the old-style painting done by Little Man (two Olympic wrestlers):

And a close up of My Girl's soldier:

After taking two spring classes to work on the vases they were put aside for the summer. When we got back together with our Art/History/Nature Study group in the fall, the second class saw a return to the vases. Many were completed during that last session, but there there are a couple of more details to finish on the vase that The Ones I Love worked on, the border design being the main thing, but the result is beautiful already!

Days

Every day spent with these, The Ones I Love, is a treasure. Even at times of distraction, lack of focus, low motivation, this is where I love to be: with The Ones I Love.

Brown-Eyed Boy doing his 'school jobs'.

My Girl, working on General Science.

Little Man, perfecting his copy-work.

Durability

After 19 years, our wedding gifts are beginning to wear out...

... but not our wedding vows.

Salt Dough Ancient Greece - Complete!

After being inspired by our friends' completed maps, My Girl pulled out the paints and finished her own.

We are all very pleased with the result!

Here's a link to the first post about the map experience, for those of you who missed it.

The Day Of Thanks - One Thousand Gifts

God gives only gifts.

Everything is a gift.

The gift in everything is the potential for a closer relationship with Him.

351. Bocce ball.

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352. Bow and arrow.

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353. Decisions to make.

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354. Friends to share news with.

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355. Growing up.

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356. Growing clarity.

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357. Being at home in church.

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358. Mother sparrow feeding her baby.

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359. Brown-Eyed Boy is feeling somewhat better tonight.

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360. The voice of Jesus.

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361. Salvaging a mistake, which led to something much better than 'salvaged'.

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362. A big sister's help.

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363. Jesus in me.

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364. Sparkling smile.

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365. Quiet morning.

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366. Quality medical system.

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367. Boys who like cuddles.

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368. Routines.

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369. 21st century communications.

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370. Plans for time away with My Girl.

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371. Piano playing: worship.

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372. Survey trip to Uruguay.

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373. You lead all the time.

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374. Dear Man's enthusiasm about Avant.

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375. Sin has no dominion over me!

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376. Surgical recovery is over.

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377. Boys who love books.

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378. Reading in bed.

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379. Relief from pain.

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380. Friendships.

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381. Your leading for Mike, Mark, and Bob.

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382. Team ministry.

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383. Marriage.

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384. Upcoming girls' weekend.

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385. Good-night hugs.

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386. Clean, consistent water supply.

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387. Safe travel.

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388. Peaceful whites.

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389. Skype call.

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390. Team-mates.

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391. Boys in a sports car.

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392. Need for You.

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393. Healthy body.

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394. 4-year-old's jokes.

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395. Connecting with 'old' friends.

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396. Adventures.

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397. Response to the three-bite rule.

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398. Simple churches.

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399. Persistence.

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400. Present-eternity.

This is a running list of my One Thousand Gifts. If you want to see the complete list you can click on the 1000 Gifts button in the left side-bar or click this link to open a single document with the entire list.

Using the Handbook of Nature Study

Barb at the Handbook of Nature Study blog, has just posted an excellent piece on Nature Study in Home Education and making use of Anna Botsford Comstock's wonderful resource, Handbook of Nature Study.

Fall is a great time of year to give nature study a try if you haven't already been doing it, and a wonderful season to explore more deeply if nature study is part of your family's identity already.

Comstock's book is full of narrative descriptions of plants, animals, and insects, but did you know that she even has chapters on soil, minerals, and climate?

You can find Handbook of Nature Study through most home education retailers, on Amazon, and, for those of you who want to take a look but aren't ready to buy, you can get a free download of entire book from Internet Archive, including the diagrams and illustrations!

A Break In The Clouds

For a month the date looms as we keep ourselves busy, prevent our thoughts from turning to the inevitable which will bring the unknown into focus. Appointments with specialists. Coordinating treatments. Wondering what will be the result for My Girl.

No life-threatening illness, this (Thank You Jesus), but a presence in bone which has no claim there, returned 18 months after an earlier attempt by the same surgeon to reclaim that region.

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Tears roll down a pale cheek as My Girl drifts into an unnatural sleep, me squeezing her hand, whispering prayers, Dear Man at the door, watching, praying. Invisible prayers of family and friends surround her, lift her, carry her into that unknown place where answers will be found.

We sit in the near-empty waiting room trying to pass the time. Impossibly soon, the green-garbed surgeon stands before us, telling us what we have hoped not to hear: "more aggressive", "significantly larger than in the x-ray of a month ago", "took more extreme measures"...

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My Girl grieves silently, mourning a loss that she doesn't quite understand. Pain, both physical and emotional, drains her of her sparkle, her appetite, her voice. As day rolls into day of unlifting cloud and the fear in me mounts: when will she rise again?

Laughter and play return slowly, but they come, with this daughter once again glowing and light.

A cycle of fittings, appointments, re-checks, assessments. And finally the last step is reached. Now the dam of emotion is breached and My Girl cries for the first time. Two weeks after the surgery. Six weeks after the disappointing news of recurrence. Five days after the sunniness returned the clouds are back. The holding back is over; the time for being strong is done.

Now the true healing will begin.

Beginning the Cycle

We picked up our milkweed caterpillars on Saturday and brought the little fellows home to their mesh enclosure. I was a little disappointed that this year we were not given a chrysalid, too, but I'm comforting myself with the knowledge that soon we'll see our own caterpillars transform.

Seven caterpillars of various size were in the container we were given. One of them was minuscule! Another was barely bigger than minuscule. The rest ranged in size to nearly fully grown.

Now, four days later, we can only find six in the cage. It seems that one is either very good at hiding or he has already met his demise. I'm going to assume the latter, Mr. Minuscule, and I can't seem to find one that looks small enough to be that him.Already one of the caterpillars is looking ready to pupate. He's huge! But memory is a flawed thing, and it's quite possible that he has one more instar to go through before we have a chrysalid. Time will tell!

And now, some of what we saw at the butterfly conservatory:

The hatching room (I'm sure that there is a more official name for it) was popular as people stood at the window, watching the butterflies emerge from their chrysalids. After hanging for a few minutes, a new butterfly would begin to gently move its wings, and then, with no ado at all, lift off from its perch. More than once we saw a new butterfly take wing and then land seconds later . . . on one of the people watching!

Brown-Eyed Boy wanted desperately for one of the butterflies to land on him, but it didn't happen.

At least not to him:

My Girl's bright bandanna was an attraction for this one!

The butterflies were very active, although there didn't seem to be a lot of them this year.

What we did manage to get a good look at, however, were the birds.