She asks you in a Captain-ish sort of way:

Have you gotten out your Winnie the Pooh books yet?
Well, what are you waiting for?

Family Intrigue

Stumbling across something the kids have been doing on their own is one of my very favorite things about family life.  I found this on the couch.

I was fascinated by this book as a child and delighted to find it for a dollar at the library book sale.




These are great books about secret codes:
Lu & Clancy's Secret Codes by Mason & Cupples
Mysterious Messages: A History of Codes and Ciphers by Blackwood
The Usborne Book of Secret Codes by O'Brien & Riddell
Let's Investigate Codes and Sequences by Smoothey & Baum

In Which We Finally Find our Summer Rhythm

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.



Do Try This at Home, Kids

A few years ago my friend, Steph, taught me to make jam.  She gave me her no-nonsense instructions and a beautiful old-timey pot & directed me on which handy tools to buy (which is part of the fun of having a new hobby, now isn't it?).  I must've eaten at least a jar's worth of apricot jam while cooking that first batch.  Wow.  So good.

And... then my littlest one starting toddling around my legs in the kitchen.  Bubbling preserves (apricot! plum! strawberry! raspberry! what a summer!) started feeling a little dicey.  But, having homemade jam in the house at all times wasn't something we could give up without a fight.

So we started making freezer jam.  What a delicious and easy alternative.  In fact, this batch here -- the only thing I actually did -- was to pour it into jars (because one of my handy gadgets is, eh-hem, misplaced).  Otherwise, the kids could have done this part, too! 

Invest in some basic canning jars if you don't already have 6 miscellaneous boxes in your garage.  For $10 you'll have freezer jam containers, storage for leftovers, a bouquet delivery system, homemade cookie gift packaging, button jars, ...

On the right: what we had in our
pantry.  On the left: what I just
bought.  The key is
"instant" or "no cook."

Here's the low-down:
Stir together sugar & freezer jam pectin (from our local Ace Hardware store) according to package directions.
Mash fruit (fresh, or 3 bags of frozen raspberries -- our year-round, non-heatstroking standby).
Combine.
Pour into jars (I buy freezer jar lids at Ace, too.  $5)
Freeze until you're ready to use.
Eat.  On everything.  Share.  Gift.  Take pictures of jammy smiles.

Story Lights

I love the rhythm of summer -- the predictability of the weather and of little that must be done.  And of easing into summer nights.  Play falls into dinnertime.  And then children spill back into more play -- but changed with full tummies, family chatter, and the setting sun.  The glow of candles in the house meets the setting of the sun outside.  Dinosaurs and trucks find a place to rest, book stacks materialize, and "pioneer children" ("farm children," "kids riding on a train across the country to see their aunt") gradually settle.

Because of this natural evening ritual, we have a lot of homemade candle holders.  We made these with large applesauce jars, Mod Podge, and tissue paper. (Thanks, Mama Scout, for the inspiration!)  Sela wrote a short story, typed it up, and printed it out.  Linus dictated his story to me and went to the desk for the "fancy" scissors to cut it out.  To change it up a bit, I stuffed an errant strand of Christmas tree lights into the jars.

'Night all.

What I Can Do

For the last three years, we've wrapped up our year with a spring ballet show.  Like the music and movement of the ballet itself, it adds a rhythm to our days and weeks, as well as our ears and eyes.  It's a big commitment for everyone involved (especially Linus).  "Is it worth it?" some ask.

I found Sela's rehearsal schedule on the table this morning.  She had used the paper cutter to trim it so that it could be carefully glued together as a single sheet, and she marked her rehearsal times with neat stars.  Her bag's already packed for her next rehearsal.

So, yeah.  It's worth it.

To see her joy at the opportunity to be involved in a project that could only be experienced as a group -- is worth it.  It's one thing to have a good ballet "class."  It's an entirely different experience of childhood and of growing up to have the chance to be part of a "production."  It's a massive undertaking by her ballet teacher (and many others).  I can't replicate this experience for her.  But I can lend support to her, to the production, (and to little Linus) because: they are worth it.

Not-Quite-Nestle: A Story of Frivolity & a Dream Come True

I'm amused every once in a while by what I discover about myself -- like when I hear myself think, "I've always wanted..."  They're not predictable things.  They're not universal things.  I think I've written about how I had always wanted to learn to crochet granny squares, and I had always wanted a bird to make a nest in my yard.  I don't usually realize they're a "thing," until they happen.

Here's another: I've always wanted my chocolate chip cookies to be fluffy.  (Don't you just love people?!)  I've tried lots of recipes, none have panned out.  I've tweaked my favorite (Nestle Tollhouse) in many ways.  In the end, they never end up fluffy, but the flavor's good, so Nestle Tollhouse is my recipe of choice.

Well, almost.  I don't use their chocolate chips.  Those were traded out for fair-trade chocolate chips years ago.

Well, I made cookies the other night, and... they were fluffy!  They looked like I always wanted them to look!  And they tasted delicious!  (And not just the dough, which is what I mostly eat.)  But, the sad news was that I couldn't figure out why they looked different.  I thought at first that it was because I had the oven rack in the wrong place and then the cook time was off.  But, no.  I went to bed disappointed that this was the best chocolate chip cookie I've made, and I wouldn't. be able. to make it. again.

I woke the next morning thinking about this (what a great problem to wake to, right?): hmmm, what did I do?  the color is so light. why didn't the brown su- aaaaah, I forgot to add the brown sugar!  Hm.  

My new best recipe for chocolate chip cookies:

1 cup butter, softened (2 sticks)
3/4 c. sugar
1 tsp vanilla
2 eggs
1 tsp baking soda
1 tsp salt
2 1/4 cups flour
chocolate chips to taste

Beat butter.  Add sugar and vanilla & beat.  Add eggs & beat.  Add dry ingredients & (you guessed it) beat.  Stir in chocolate chips.
Bake at 375 for 8-10 minutes.