Inspired by Isadora Duncan

"The finest inheritance you can give to a child is to allow it to make its own way, completely on its own feet." - Isadora Duncan

 

 

Dances By Isadora

 

 

 

Isadora Duncan is considered to be the mother of modern dance. She was clearly a brilliant dancer. I hope she knew what she was talking about regarding children as well, because this daughter of mine, is determined to make her way on her own two feet. On her two brilliant, beautiful, powerful scientist/dancer/farmer little feet.

This Moment

 "A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember." 

 

 

inspired by SouleMama

Leap of Faith

There is so much I have to learn from falling.

 

For instance? I recently took a nasty spill in the middle of the street. I may have tripped over my dog. Okay, I did trip over my dog. I skinned my knee and relearned exactly how much that really hurts. I don't expect I will ever again say, "It's okay. You just took a little skin off. It's fine." Lesson learned.

 

There seem to be some bigger lessons in there too. Luckily, my children are very good teachers.

 

I spent many years, in school, learning to avoid falling on my face. Both physically and academically. I was a good student and I successfully flew under the radar. But I wasn't really flying. You don't exactly take risks or test yourself when you carry the weight of a fear of failure and humiliation that the school system heaps upon your shoulders. But what happens if you drop those words and their emotional weight?

 

You can fly!

 

Because falling is so very much like flying.

 

I watch my children take risks that make my heart flutter. I want to cast out that maternal safety net and stop the inevitable hurt.  Sometimes there is hesitation. Sometimes there are tears. But it turns out, that hurt isn't as inevitable, or as terrible, as it seemed. They learn to fall. They become stronger and more resilient. They pick themselves up and leap higher!

 

As they fall, there is a moment of flying.

 

I am learning, from them, to embrace falling. I am learning to embrace the giddy, dizzying sensation before the skinned knee. I am learning to pick myself up, rinse off the blood, and leap higher.

 

 

 

 

 



This Moment

 "A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember."
 

 

inspired by SouleMama

Inspired by This Window

 

We saw this window on our last visit to the deCordova. It had such a luminous mosaic quality that we were quite smitten.

 

What could we do with a window and tissue paper? One rainy morning, we decided to find out. We got to work, snipping up colored paper and mixing up some sugar water. We painted our sugary "glue" onto the window and, piece by piece, created our own, sticky sweet, mosaic window.

 

 

 

Through my daughter's eyes

As I was tucking my daughter into bed tonight, I asked her what the best part of today was. She didn't hesitate. "Swimming at the pond and going across the water to the island!"

 

I admit to being more than a little surprised. Not because those things didn't sound absolutely lovely, but because they didn't happen. At least, I didn't think they did.

 

We did spend a beautiful day with friends at the seashore. We had a picnic and played at a wooded playground on a hill. There were many moments there that could have qualified as the best part of today. But they weren't the best part of her day. She is delighted by what we did next.

 

What did we do next?

 

We walked down to the marsh.  It smelled strongly of low tide, because it was low tide. As the water receded I watched children enter this wonderland of decay. They frolicked with abandon in silt and muck halfway up their shins. They stooped to dig in the mud for clams, and the sandals that had been sucked from their feet. They "washed" themselves in pools of water that sent phrases like "high bacterial count" and "internal parasites" singing through my brain. Through my eyes, this was the filthiest, most stomach turning part of the day.

 

Through my daughters eyes; wading becomes swimming, marsh becomes pond, and a mudflat becomes an island. It's a magical world, through my daughter's eyes.

 



 

 

This Moment

 "A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember." 

 

inspired by SouleMama

Home-ish School-ish

 



"No school today?"

When your kids don't go to school, they get asked that question all the time. "We homeschool," is our automatic response. There are other responses that more accurately describe our life outside of the realm of compulsory education, but this is the answer most easily understood. Or misunderstood.

So, if it isn't school, and it isn't exactly homeschool, what are we doing?

I found a pretty good answer on an art table the other day. There was an activity set up based on the book, Ish by Peter Reynolds. When I looked at the containers of ish-ful things, I was amused. The Home-ish container sat next to the School-ish container, creating a new way to look at what my family does every day. Both the activity, and the book, celebrate freedom to explore and create without being hindered by the need to "get it right."

That's kind of what we are doing. Sometimes we are learning at home, but learning happens everywhere. There isn't going to be a geography test but mapping different routes to Kansas is geography-ish.  It isn't a math lesson, but calculating interest is math-ish. We are enjoying reading about the lives of U.S. presidents, which is history-ish. We aren't doing these things to pass a test. We are learning because learning is fun and useful and satisfying.

"No school today?"

"No. But it is kind of a home-ish school-ish day."







 

Dragon Boat Festival

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This Moment

 "A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember." 

 

 

inspired by soulemama

deCordova

If a stroll along the edge of a grassy lawn leads you to a child-sized bird wearing loafers, you are probably at the deCordova. You are probably also amused and delighted. I know we were. It's kind of a magical place. A place where amusement and delight grow on trees.  Or maybe in the bellies of pink flamingoes.

 

 

Modern art and nature are not in contrast here. They sit comfortably together, like an old married couple. They belong together. In some instances, they depend on each other. 

 

 Flamingoes slowly crumble into the earth, where the seeds they contained begin to take root.

 

 

This element of composition and decomposition is also seen in these towering cliffs of newspaper. Trees become newspapers, become waste, become landscape. Poison ivy trails down one side, taking root and reclaiming. In some places you can still read the headlines. Old news. 

 

 

You leave this quiet valley and walk up a hill filled with shrieks of laughter and awe and thousands of little bubbles. You have found the bubble man. His creations are no less art than the more permanent installations. And you can chase them and pop them.

 

 

Leaving the frenetic bubble mob behind you could find yourself on a quiet trail where you can check out some sculpture, from a distance, or right up close.

 

 

 

 

The whimsy is worth the drive.

And on the first Wednesday of every month, admission is free.

We can't wait to go back!

 

 

 

 



Bag Lady

I had good intentions. I really did. I bought reusable bags at the supermarket. I used them too. But not for groceries. Then I discovered that they aren't particularly durable. Or washable. Which, unfortunately, rendered them somewhat less reusable. And my good intentions? Well, let's just say, when combined with the mountains of paper grocery bags I have been accumulating, you could pave a road with them.

 



 

I know it's shameful, but I kind of like paper bags. I like the way they smell. I like that unmistakable paper bag color. I like the way my dog gets all excited when we walk in the door with groceries because she knows we will give her a paper bag handle. And boy does she love them! When I was a kid, paper bags were considered our family's signature wrapping paper. They remind me of presents. And they remind me of making covers for school books. Covers that I would decorate with sharpies or pens or smudgy pencil. I love the way kids see a world of possibility in a paper bag. And the way they can put them over their heads without me having to launch into a panicky lecture about the dangers of suffocation. I like that I can pull a paper bag over my head now to hide my blushing.

 

Maybe my fondness for paper bags got in the way of properly giving them up. Or maybe it's because I always forget to bring reusable bags to the grocery store. I would like to blame myself but I prefer to blame the stores. If stores didn't provide these loveable paper bags I would surely remember to bring bags of my own. At least after the first couple of times I walked out of the store with a bunch of bananas balanced on my head, my arms loaded with eggs, bread and milk, kicking a cantaloupe like a soccer ball in front of me.

 

Since the supermarkets seem inclined to enable this paper bag habit, I have only myself to hold me responsible. And I do want to be responsible. I want to be a different kind of bag lady. I will make cloth bags that are sturdy and washable. I will bring them with me to the grocery store.  

I will fill them with more than good intentions.

 

 

 



Pinks and Purples

Our little piece of earth is bursting with color.