White Pine - 100 Species Challenge

6.  White Pine, Eastern White Pine, Northern White Pine

      Pinus strobus.

Sunday was cool after a very warm Saturday (29 degrees Celsius) which ended in high winds and lots of driving rain.  But it was still a nice day to head out for a walk, so we took ourselves to the park near the river.

We played some baseball, then My Girl and I left the boys and went for a short walk to the Bridge To Nowhere.  As we stood atop the bridge I noticed a coniferous tree about a hundred 

feet away that I wanted to take a closer look at.  I could tell, even from that distance, that it had long needles and it was quite a light green.  Recalling a workshop* I had recently attended at the KW home educators' conference about local trees and native species (plant and animal alike), I wondered if it was one of the native trees the speaker had referred to.

The tree's needles were 3-4" in length, 5 per cluster.  Sure enough, it was the White Pine that I had learned a little about!  I was so excited to have been able to identify this tree on my own, without my field guide!

Today, when I looked it up in my National Audubon Society Field Guide to Trees, I learned the following:

• The (Eastern) White Pine is the only pine tree in the guide that has 5 needles in each bundle
• White Pines are the largest North Eastern conifers, reaching 100', but my specimen was less than 1/2 the height of the neighbouring tree; it was probably young.
• White Pines add one row of branches each year, so I could probably go back to my specimen and determine an approximate age

I now think that I could accurately identify any White Pine that I come across! I guess I really am learning, one specimen at a time!

*The workshop was "Seeing The (Local) Forest For The Trees" by Karen Buschert

The Way It Was. The Way It Is. (Part 3)

A Parable of Grace

This is the third in a series of posts on my walk through clinical depression.  You can find part one here, and part two here.  If you have not read them yet, I'd be pleased if you would start with them.

For the kingdom of heaven is like a marriage...

A certain young man took to himself a wife and they loved each other and lived together several years and had a child together.

One day the wife was no longer able to look after the things that had always been her responsibility.  She could barely get out of bed in the morning to look after their precious little girl, although she did.  She couldn't prepare meals, she didn't do laundry, and she certainly wasn't vacuuming, dusting, or cleaning toilets.  She couldn't converse about her husband's work with him when he came home after a long day and a long commute.  There was no physical intimacy.  He was doing all the tasks at home that weren't being done during the day, and he was getting worn down.

A short time before, the wife had watched another couple's marriage collapse as they went through a similar time.  And the wife of our story began to fear.  She said to herself, "What is my husband getting from our marriage?  I'm not filling any of his needs; I offer him nothing except free child care, and it's possible that he'd be better off having someone else look after My Girl."  And the hole she was living in grew deeper, the clouds surrounding her grew darker and heavier, and the veil in front of her eyes that kept her from seeing colour and light grew thicker.

So the woman said to her husband, "Why do you stay?  Why don't you go somewhere where you can go on with life without this additional burden."

And he said to her, "Because, even though this is terrible for me, too, years ago I promised to be your husband until we were parted in death.  I didn't know what would come, but I made that promise knowing that there could be things that neither of us expected.  I don't love you because of what you do for me, nor because you love me.  I love you and I stay because I promised before God, and there is no way that I will ever walk away from you or that promise."

::

I have since come to learn that, in a small way, that is a picture of the Lord's love for me, for all of us.  We really have nothing to offer Him.  Even the things that we think we can do are so imperfect that it's shameful to think that we offer them to God Of The Universe.  But He loves us.  Not because of what we do.  Not because of how we look, or act.  And not even because of our deep spirituality.  He loves us because we are His and He made a promise to us to be faithful to us, even when we have nothing at all to offer Him.

And so my life has been, and still is, and always will be, a parable.

CBC Radio Programs on Play and Early Childhood

Sandy Rusby Bell sent me the following note this morning, and I'm now feeling a little badly for not having pointed out the first part to all of you much earlier. I listened to the CBC Ideas podcast of The Hurried Infant several weeks ago and was finding myself nodding in agreement through much of it. This is so applicable to those of us who believe that Charlotte Mason was on the right track regarding early childhood development, and it is thrilling to me to hear these idea being brought to the public ear. If you want to listen to the podcast instead of using the link Sandy has given (below), you will find it on iTunes. If you need help locating it there, let me know.

Our National Public Broadcaster CBC seems to have become very interested in the importance of play in the lives of children. Last week they aired an amazing two part documentary called "The Hurried Infant". Fascinating work on the brain, confirms so much of what CM said.

Today, at 12:00 on the Science show they will be discussing the importance of play. I haven't heard it yet so don't know what it will be like but I thought you might like to listen...

Here Sandy gave the link to the CBC program Quirks and Quarks. The link doesn't actually pull up the broadcast, but I believe that this, too, would be available through iTunes podcasts. Sorry we didn't know about this early enough to get the info out to you before the show actually aired so you could listen to it as it was broadcast, but, I suppose, we can be thankful for the technology that allows us to listen to previously aired programs so easily.)

The Way It Was. The Way It Is. (Part 2)

This is the second in a series of posts on my walk through clinical depression. If you are just joining me here at PeaceLedge, please start with the first post.

I had wanted all my life to be a mother. When I was growing up, if anyone asked me what I wanted to be, my answer would be one of two things: a mother or a teacher. Now here I was, with my hopes for my life fulfilled: I'd been a teacher, in both Canada and Russia, and now I was a mother.

So why wasn't I joyful? Where was the thrill that I'd heard would come when I held my little girl? Intellectually I knew that I loved my daughter, and there was nothing I wouldn't do for her, but the feelings I'd expected weren't there.

My life was reduced to going through the motions. I talked to My Girl as I changed her diaper and dressed her, I nuzzled her tummy, cuddled, and played. But it was all external. These were things I did because I knew that I needed to do them. There was no internal drive pressing me toward My Girl, only a knowledge, coming from years of studying child development, of what she would need to thrive and a determination that I would give her that if it was all I could give her.

On the outside, apparently, things looked pretty good. I was what my doctor referred to as "a high functioning depressive". (Maybe somewhat perversely I was a bit proud of that.) I attended church and weekly Bible study, and I took great care to look nice for those things. I didn't realize then the impact all my subconscious masking was having.

::

People I knew, friends, acquaintances from church, would hold My Girl and coo at her, admire her, tell me how lucky I was, how blessed. And I knew it was true.

All around me there were people whose hearts were breaking: friends who had been married years longer than we had been, longing for a child of their own, but unable to conceive; a friend who longed to be a wife and mother, but was unable to find the man who would see her beauty and potential; acquaintances from church who had, one year earlier, lost their two year old daughter in a drowning accident; family members whose first child had been desperately ill for his first two years of life and was still struggling. Compared to that, we were walking an easy road: a loving marriage, good careers, health, and now a beautiful, healthy, content baby girl. Why wasn't I happy. Why was I sad all the time? Why couldn't I enjoy these blessings? Why wasn't I thankful? Why couldn't I smile and laugh anymore?


And so the guilt began. Guilt over being 'ungrateful' for this little one. Guilt over having so much when others were suffering so deeply. Guilt over not being joyful with what I had. Guilt for not loving motherhood. Guilt over not measuring up to my expectations of what a mother should be.

::

Shortcut to Part 3

::

The Way It Was. The Way It Is.

In person I'm quite open about this part of my life, but I have hesitated to write much about it here, mainly because of not always knowing who exactly my audience is. But recently it has become clear to me that PeaceLedge is for me, mostly, a place to write and process, a place to share what I choose with those who choose to listen. And I've also come to realize that there are others who might benefit from hearing about this, even while I'm still in process.

I've always been a bit proud of my brain. I was raised to be a thinker, to analyse and discern. Mathematics came easily; I excelled at the academics of school. I was one of those children who thrive in an environment of clear expectations and affirmation for conformity, the kind of setting that is found in a typical public school.

But more than that alone, I was also a person who desperately needed affirmation, and the most likely source for that was through my academic achievements. I didn't believe that there was anything special about me, anything of value, and so I thought that if I could get high grades, awards, and scholastic recognition, if I could always be 'good', I would be worthwhile to those who I cared about, would have succeeded at what they respected, and would finally be . . . lovable. So I developed my intellect, my scholastic skills. And in doing that, I invested even more into my brain.

::

When I was 27, after 6 years of marriage, completing my B.Ed., teaching in a Christian school, and serving as a missionary in Russia with my husband, I gave birth to our first child. We were so amazed at this little person who had joined us, at this little life that flowed out of our very own lives. But the birth process itself was traumatic for me, physically and emotionally. And so began a downward spiral that has shaped the rest of my life.

::

I have some very clear mental images of the early months of my daughter's life. Some are beautiful: My Girl's sweet, nearly-bald head nestled in my arms as she nursed; her early and ever-present smile, offered to anyone who would receive it. Some are not so lovely: walking into my bedroom and dropping across the bed, falling into an immediate sleep after My Girl went down for a nap, the house uncleaned, dinner unprepared, unthought of, even; getting ready for church on Sunday morning and having a smile for those I met, then coming home and weeping for hours, complete puzzlement on the face of Dear Man; walking away from a conversation with a kind man, knowing that I had nodded and responded at all the right places, but having no clue what that moments-ago conversation had been about, even while we were conversing.

But images of that time, whether lovely or ugly, are very few. While it is common to go through early baby days in a blur, this time for me was more like a complete black-out. As I write this I'm still surprised at how very little I recall of those early months. In fact, my memory doesn't really kick-in in earnest until My Girl was about nine months old.

This was more than the typical exhaustion of a new baby, more than the forgetfulness of a mind slightly numbed by lack of sleep and major change, although I didn't know it at the time. My family doctor began monitoring me weekly soon after My Girl was born, but I didn't realize that was not typical. She mentioned to me occasionally that, while being blue after a baby is born is normal, I wasn't pulling out of it like she would expect, and that maybe I needed to consider that there was something more serious going on. But I didn't realize that it was as serious as it turned out to be. I thought she was suggesting possibilities, not stating facts. And so I kept on for months, thinking things would change, that I would become more energetic again.

It wasn't just energy, though, that was out of kilter. It was emotion. It was response. It was everything. I knew I loved my dear daughter, but there was no joy in my days. I interacted with her constantly because I knew what was needed for infant development, but I did it with a haze about me, a dark fog that never lifted. It was like I was a distant observer to someone else playing with My Girl.

Then came the day that my doctor told me I really needed to consider treatment for depression. Can I even begin to express the shock that I felt at that? I thought I was doing alright, that I was coping, that I was in control. Can you guess why I thought that? It was because I had learned all I could about post-partum depression since my doctor first mentioned it to me. I had signed out every possible book at the library and read them all cover to cover. I KNEW about post-partum depression. I was trusting in my brain, the intellect that I had nurtured through life. I understood it. I had it under control.

But now my brain had betrayed me.

::

Shortcut to Part 2

Shortcut to Part 3

::

This is the first in a series about my walk through clinical depression. It is a continuing walk, not over yet. Please join me in praying for others who are walking this walk and are feeling alone. I pray, too, that while you read my story, you will realize that everyone 'does their depression differently'. The road is not the same for all of us, the depth of the darkness varies from person to person, from day to day. Do not underestimate the pain of one walking this road because it doesn't look like you think it 'should'. My story is not the same as anyone else's, and while there are many things I am thankful for in hindsight, I still wouldn't wish it on anyone.

And, thanks to you, for reading this far.

One Thousand Gifts

269. Belonging to the Body, affirmed six-fold at the place I worship.

::

270. A safe place for A. J.

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271. Family strength.

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272. The way You work in situations to gently press people toward the best place.

::

273. Spring weather, longer days, and the resulting boost in energy and motivation.

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274. Three children, each a gift.

::

275. Modern communication that brings together those who are not physically close: phone, email, Internet. These, too, are gifts from You.

::

276. Unexpected schedule changes.

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277. Spiritual exercises.

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278. Your love for those who seem unlovable.

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279. Friends gifted to see others as You see them.

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280. Prayer.

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281. Protection and sheltering.

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282. Opportunities taken to love and encourage.

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283. Generosity seen in my children.

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284. Painful times.

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285. I cannot hide from You.

::

286. You will not overlook me.

Treasured

Brown-Eyed Boy is getting ready for bed. With some assistance he changes from his day clothes into his p.j.s and then Dear Man suggests that he scoot downstairs to say goodnight to Mommy.

Rarely does this bedtime routine include a hug. Almost never does it involve a kiss.

But this night Brown-Eyed Boy surprises me, gently placing a kiss on my forehead, then turning away with a giggle.

Treasured. That's how I feel. Like I've been given a precious gem to enjoy.

::

Dear Man has come downstairs as well, to keep the bedtime procedure moving, and now he picks up Brown-Eyed Boy in an awkward carry, to head up the stairs.

On the way they pass the windowsill where there rests a box of cotton-tipped swabs, waiting for someone to return them to their proper home. And as they pass, Brown-Eyed boy leans out from Dear Man's arms and tries to kiss the long rectangular box.

Suddenly I don't feel like such a treasure.

But I'm smiling all over. And that is a treasure in itself.

Finished

On Saturday I finished.

It's been a long process, and in working through it I'm sure that I made 60 blocks instead of the 30 that are in the final product. Lots of pulling out. Lots or remaking. Lots of trying again.

But now I am finished.

Cardinals in the Nature Journals - Backyard Bird Focus #1b

Little Man's cardinal, coloured and cut out from the Cornell University bird colouring book. Much care and time went into colour selection and labelling.

My Girl's cardinal. She is trying to include realistic details of shading in her illustrations.

We once again used the Cornell University Ornithology colouring pages as the basis for our nature journal entries. As I see My Girl getting more comfortable with bird features and shapes I'll ask her to begin drawing her own birds rather than using the outlines in the colouring pages. For now, however, this is working very well, allowing her and Little Man to concentrate on colour details, distinctive features in the feathers and so on, while still having the bird's overall shape clearly before them.

As we walked to the dentist this morning, Little Man and Brown-Eyed Boy kept pointing out the birds they recognized: house sparrows, robins, and now grackles, too, although they aren't part of our backyard bird "collection" so far.

Little Man has been counting the robins he has seen this spring, and he's up to seven, I believe. I haven't been keeping count, but have been trying to find ways to identify individual birds among those who come to our yard and feeder. That is pretty hard to do. I'm not sure exactly what to focus on to see individual differences in the sparrows or robins. But I'm trying.

Today while they were playing outside, The Ones I Love called me out twice to see birds they were quietly watching. One was a chickadee hiding in a neighbour's shrub, the other was a fat little robin, hopping merrily along the ground which, thanks to the recent snow and thaw, is once again moist and yielding many yummy treats.

The fact that The Ones I Love are pausing to watch the birds while they are playing, riding bikes, digging, etc., brings me much joy. THIS is why we are doing Nature Study: so that it will become a natural part of their lives and so that their familiarity with the species around us will give them a greater love for creation and the Creator.

Outdoor Hour Challenge - Backyard Bird Focus #1b

Following Barb's Backyard Bird Focus, we pressed on with our Outdoor Hour Challenge this week, despite two inches of new white snow.

We read about cardinals and house sparrows, and I finally believe that I can confidently say that the little birds that come to my feeder so often are house sparrows. I'd looked them up many times, but promptly forgotten what I'd discovered. This time, however, focusing on one bird at a time, I've finally internalized what I read.

There are so many nondescript little brownish birds around. I know, it's not really true, but until I started looking closely, all I could say was that maybe it was a sparrow or a finch or some other little common bird. In fact, I had a mental picture of a sparrow in my mind that was completely wrong: it was too slender, too delicate, too small. What was I thinking?

Well, now I know. These little sparrows have rusty caps, tiny little bibs below their bills, brown streaky wings and lighter brown bellies. And those bellies are very round. There is almost no neck length on a sparrow (something I had wrong in my mental picture), although you can definitely see the indentation that separates head from body.

We are now confidently identifying house sparrows all over our neighbourhood. And we're even starting to be able to pick out their calls among all the other bird sounds we're hearing these days!

We haven't put entries in our Nature Journals yet for these little fellows, but we have done our cardinals. I'll put pictures of both in my next post on the Challenge.

Steve Bell Devotion Tour Closing Concert to be Broadcast on Good Friday on CBC Radio 2

Anyone who has known me for a little while will know that I'm a fan of Steve Bell's music. This week I received the following, very exciting, note in my email inbox:

Steve Bell Devotion Tour Closing Concert To Be Broadcast On CBC Radio 2!

The final sold out concert of the Steve Bell Devotion Tour was recorded by CBC Radio 2, and will be broadcast on Canada Live, Friday April 10th (Good Friday), from coast to coast.

The broadcast will begin with a gospel concert from Montreal at 8:00 p.m, with Steve and the band starting at 8:37 (1/2 hour later in Newfoundland). Don't miss this outstanding and deeply inspiring concert event!

CBC is our National Public Broadcaster. If you like what you hear on Friday, contact the CBC and let them know you are listening and you would like to hear more from artists like Steve!

Here are some links for you:

Steve Bell Website

Signpost Music Website

Direct Link to CBC Canada Live Website Listing

Contact CBC

Let me know if you listen. I'd love to hear what you think of Steve's music.

In Which Sandy Rusby Bell Gives Us Oodles of Links for Greek Myths, Fairy Tales, and Poetry

What a wonderful meeting last night. As always, the atmosphere in Karen's home was warm and welcoming. And the cake!! We have some amazing bakers in our midst.

Thank you Liz for leading the discussion about the Will. It was not an easy chapter but you explained it so well.

I promised to send out some recommended resources that relate to our practical discussion last night. Here they are.

(Note from Jennifer: All items in colour are hyperlinks that will take you to a new website. If you want to open it in a different tab and keep this blog open, right click on the link and select "Open link in new tab.")

To look more deeply at the “Instructors of Conscience” that we spoke about see Charlotte Masons 4th Volume “Ourselves”, specifically Chapters 12-15. If you don't own a copy you can find it free online here. There is also a wonderful paraphrase of the volume in Modern English here.


Greek Myths

I'm only going to mention my favourites. You can of course find more in our library. If you'd like to see what we have in our library, remember, you can scroll down the right hand side of this blog and find a link to a “Keep and Share” document with a listing of our library books.

I've included a link so you can have a look at each book.

Black Ships Before Troy by Rosemary Sutcliff – This is my very favourite retelling of the Iliad. We have this in the WHHE library.

The Wanderings of Odysseus by Rosemary Sutcliff- This continues the story describing, well, the wanderings of Odysseus!

Jim Weiss storytelling CDs: The Greek Myths and He and She Adventures in Mythology and Heroes in Mythology (which I forgot to mention last night).

The Heroes by Charles Kingsley. You can also read The Heroes free online .

Tanglewood Tales and The Wonderbook by Nathaniel Hawthorne -As I mentioned, I particularly like these books for after the student already has some familiarity with the myths. Hawthorne plays with the stories and makes some funny changes that kids love to be able to catch. Tanglewood Tales can be read free here. You can see the book and reviews here.

I don't think A Wonderbook for Girls and Boys is in the public domain yet, weird! But you can see it here.

Greek Myths by Olivia Coolidge. Woo Hoo! Last time I looked this book was out of print. It's expensive but at least it's available again.

Mythology by Edith Hamilton. This is a standard University text and is suitable for high school students. It has virtually all the “important” myths and very helpful explanations. “The Introduction to Classical Mythology” section is worth the price of the book (especially if you find it a library discard sale for a quarter as I did!).


Fairy Tales

In case you weren't convinced last night, or even if you were, please read the beautiful, beautiful blog post by Lori Lawing called “The Shout of a King”

Jim Weiss Storytelling CDs:
Best Loved Stories in Song and Dance
Fairytale Favorites in Song and Dance
Giants! A Colossal Collection of Tales and Tunes
Famously Funny!
Tell me a Story!
If you've never listened to Jim Weiss's stories, watch out, they're addictive!

I mentioned that I wrote a blog post about the moral imperative of developing imagination in our children. It is called, to my children's horror, “Naked and Blue at My Back Door”. You can read it here. (And I'd love it if you'd leave comments, hint, hint.)

Andrew Lang's The Blue Fairy Book is the one with “Beauty and The Beast”. It can be read free here. Make sure you scroll down, when you first click on the page it looks like you can only purchase it. The Red Fairy Book is also available free here. We have some from this series in our library. I found this Wikipedia article about Lang's books very helpful:


Poetry

Remember there are two components to this: poetry reading and poetry memorization.

For Poetry Reading

I showed the “Poetry for Young People” series. You can see the the Robert Frost book here: You'll also see links to others in the series. We have several of these in our library.

We have a great selection of Poetry books in our library.

The Grammar of Poetry is wonderful for late elementary or early high school.

The Roar on the Other Side is also for late elementary or high school. It's probably best after The Grammar of Poetry.

For Poetry Memorization

I wrote a blog post on Composition for ChildLight USA. In it I discuss the importance of poetry memorization for writing skills. I refer to the article “One Myth, Two Truths” by Andrew Pudewa. Important stuff.

I recommend Pudewa's program “Linguistic Development through Poetry Memorization”. It is pricey and not necessary. It has been tremendously helpful for me though. We actually do poetry memorization now. We have this in our library.

Unfortunately we ran out of time last night and we weren't able to discuss how Charlotte Mason actually did poetry memorization. It is quite different than you might expect. This article, “Memorization “Learnt without Labour” by Tina Fillmer explains it nicely. Jennifer has written well about her family's experience on her blog. Click on the 'memorization' topic on the left.

Whew, I hope I haven't missed anything!

May I just say that I came home so excited and energized last night. I am inspired by all of you incredible women. I look forward to hearing all of your insightful contributions every month. Thank you for sharing this journey with me. Every one of you is a gift.

I look forward to hearing about the High School breakout session last night. Please send us a note.

Warmly,
Sandy Rusby Bell

The Strong Silent Type

Brown Eyed Boy has always been reserved, done things on his own terms, in his own time. It's part of his personality to sit back and observe until he's ready to participate, and then he jumps in with both feet.

This boy is reserved in all respects:

When we were in Colorado for the Renovare Covenant Retreat in July, he would stand just inside the door of the child minding room and watch until a moment or two after we left, and then he'd join in the puzzles and games. Every day. All week. He wasn't afraid to be there, nor was he worried about our leaving. He simply wanted to determine on his own how and where he'd participate.

When Grandma and Grandpa (on either side of the family) come to visit, Brown-Eyed Boy won't give them goodnight hugs or kisses. And, to keep these dear ones from feeling offended, I quite honestly tell them that he doesn't kiss me goodnight, either. Ever. He smiles at me, hears my "Good night" to him, and then ducks his head away so that he can maintain his distance. If I happen to "sneak a kiss" on top of his head as Dear Man is carrying him off to bed (upside-down, most likely) his little hand immediately goes to the kissed spot and rubs it, saying, "I don't like kisses."

A mother should be able to kiss her smallest son, don't you think? But, out of respect for him, I refrain when I can, and when I forget, which I do sometimes, I end up apologizing and offering to take it back.

And this little fellow, who talks almost non-stop when we're at home or in the vehicle driving somewhere, says nothing when we're visiting others. Last fall we visited friends and I said at the beginning of the visit "You'll be lucky if you hear 10 words from him this afternoon." When our 4 hour visit was over, the eldest child of our host family said, "I counted. He said 12 words." I was impressed!

And in February, visiting other friends the week of Brown-Eyed Boy's birthday, our host said, "He's turning four? But he doesn't even talk yet!"

So, this kind of reticence is in his nature, part of who he is. I'm glad he's free enough to express himself with us, beautifully, creatively, humorously, and intelligently. And I love it when he feels comfortable enough with others to share his deeper personality with them.

What a treasure it is to see each of our children develop their own personality and style. The same family. Very different persons.

Praise the Lord!