I structure our homeschooling life so that we can find a new rhythm in the summer months. A slower rhythm. More time to putter. Time to let days unfold. To read leisurely -- together and separately, for as long as we'd all like. To play all day. Let inspiration strike us. To loll or to dig in. To really get to choose.
And I've been waiting all summer -- waiting waiting -- for this to kick in. Doing what I could to nudge it at times -- sometimes with patience, sometimes not. (Because summers do end.)
I thought starting our summer read-alouds would move it along. But even that didn't do it.
We picked up The House at Pooh Corner (narrated by Peter Dennis) at the library. We have listened to it no less than twenty times through -- which sounds like it could be torturous. But, it isn't. It is lovely and sweet and funny and wise and gentle. And predictable now. Pooh and Piglet and Owl and Rabbit and the whole gang are old friends to us. Listening along has been... meditative. It's changed the rhythm of our summer. It's brought us back. Back to center. Back to something predictable and gently-moving.
We've gathered our Pooh books from all corners of the house -- these are a few. More turned up, with flaps to lift, even, and honeypots to scratch. Each one is perfect. We've cooked from the cookbook. I'm dreaming of making stuffies from the craft book.
No one is ever too old for A.A. Milne.