New

So 2013 has officially dawned.  Stephen has gone back to work (after prising the boys and, well, me off his legs) and our school has begun again.  The house is oddly quiet and there is a big man shaped empty space that I’m trying not to think about too much or blubbing will commence.

Are there people who don’t feel sad when their beloved departs back to work after a holiday?  Are there people who think ‘phew, I’m glad to see the back of you’?  I can’t really imagine that there are.  I am definitely not someone who ‘enjoys my space’, I like the connection, the feeling of company that we had all through the holidays.  Sharing each day, each hour together even if we are doing our own thing, separate but together.

Anyhoo, I shouldn’t wax too lyrical or I’ll get myself all sad and today really is a beautiful day.  After a day of snow yesterday the world is even softer and fluffier than it was; I am thankful for the 2 hours of snow blowing and shovelling that Stephen did yesterday to clear the driveway and make paths from the house to the chickens.

I think we’ve had more snow in December than we had the whole of last winter.  The piles are everywhere and the landscape has the feeling of being covered by a massive, fluffy duvet.  This morning dawned cold and clear, with a crescent moon hanging bright in the sky, preceding the golden dawning of the sun, finally hitting the trees in the forest as we all launched into a breakfast of oat pancakes with butter and maple syrup.

Every time the snow falls I feel a bit like I’m relearning this place we live.  It is so familiar and yet there are little changes everywhere.  Some things (such as piles of scrap left over from the previous owners) I am glad to see retreating others, like the pond, slip quietly from sight to return again in spring.  I notice the pile of snow on top of the chicken bungalow getting higher and higher, it is at least 2 1/2 feet now, I’m curious to see how big it will get.

Each time Stephen ploughs the drive and pathways he pushes a bunch of snow on top of the toboggan run he made over Christmas.  Beneath the snow are hay bales that the boys have played on since the summer, now they are covered in snow and are creating new entertainment.  They are much more fearless than I am, they slide and skid without worry and I envy them a little.  I’ve never enjoyed that feeling of moving too fast, out of control.  But I love to watch them, alight and alive, full of excitement each time.

After the time inside, the cosy shelter of our family and home over the Christmas season, I feel like I am emerging again.  I have no plans to rush, I want nothing more than to continue the gentle pace of life we enjoyed over the holidays.  I’m happier than ever to keep the busy, concrete world at bay as much as I can.  Instead I’m planning little excursions, to the library, to the feed and seed and out on our own land.

Each day is a discovery, each day we wake up new.

Winter Seeds

Winter has, unsurprisingly, been a running theme through our homeschool this last week.  As well as tracking the weather and temperature on our weather chart, we have been indulging in some winter crafts.  We’ve made paper snowflakes for our window, made icicle bird feeders to hang outside our windows (as the ice melts the seeds fall to earth, we actually had some very tall sunflowers grown from dropped seeds last year), brought snow inside for sculpting and sung songs about this chilly season.

I love that homeschooling allows us to be influenced by what is around us, we aren’t tied to a specific curriculum so we have the freedom to enjoy the best of what the seasons have to offer.  If a day dawns sunny and bright, we can take off for a nature walk.  When we get home we fill in our nature journal to record some of the details of our walk.  I have set up a pro forma on my computer and I fill it in as Huwyl dictates to me.  It encourages him to recall details from our day as well as letting him know that I take his words seriously; enough to write them down and put them in a special file.  It is also a record for us for years ahead, a slice of this moment, a record of the way he thinks now.  I know that will change and so many little details will be lost, I hope we can capture a few of his thoughts for posterity.

Just as the ice holds the seeds for a while, so I try to hold the sound of his voice, the cadence of his words.  The special thoughts that could come only from his mouth.  Then, like the seeds do, this time will fall away and a new life will be born out of them.  Though our days are not always plain sailing I am grateful for the chance to be present to see the blossoming and growth of those little seeds.  I am curious to see what they grow into and hopeful that my willing ears will always be a welcome audience.