I am no longer updating Schoolhouse Earth. Please visit me at 3 Birds blog!

Homeschooling gives us the freedom to ditch school whenever and for however long we want, so we spent last week in Rehoboth and most of this week outdoors enjoying the fine weather. I love the seashore in autumn. The boardwalk isn’t bustling with folks as it is in summer, yet it isn’t as lonely as it is in the winter (this too, has it's own stark charm). We have a pleasant beach routine: breakfast, long walk, lunch, followed by games while the baby naps, another long walk and some browsing in the shops, dinner, and games or television until we go to bed. The children played in the surf most days as we walked along the beach, collecting whelks, mermaid’s purses, surf-polished stones, and driftwood. Once we found a little crab hiding in the sand, with just the tips of his claws showing. He obligingly snapped at a stick for us before burrowing further down, away from interfering humans and hungry gulls. On our last day, I met a talkative old guy who’d just had word of his first great grandbaby’s arrival. We talked a bit while the kids played in the sand and it turns out he’s had 9 children, with 7 living. I don’t talk about my Atticus much, but it’s comforting in a way to meet other people who’ve lost children – they know how badly you want, and will always want, your child back. They know that the grief can be nearly unbearable, even years and years later. I wish I'd had more time with Atticus, but I've often thought that his leaving us so young was somehow easier than losing an older child would have been. The old man I spoke to lost one child at birth, and one at 19. I can't imagine. He told me that while he didn't have favorites of course, his 19 yr. old was special -- a child after his own heart. Well, he was a nice old man, and I wish him joy of his new great grandson.

dinner tonight: tomato lime soup and pepperjack quesadillas on chili-dusted corn tortillas

Finch looks mighty handsome in his new hat, but I'll have to take care not to overdo the blue or he'll hate it when he is older. The older children have rediscovered their knitting (Robin) and weaving (Wren) after a summer-long of neglect and their projects are coming along nicely. We've been diligent these past few days with schoolwork, but have little to show for it as we don't do a lot of written work. Wren is eating up her math book, and I'm having a ball helping her with the Maths Olympiad. Robin has vindicated my assurances to relatives (and quieted my private fears) regarding his reading -- he knows all the short vowel sounds and several consonants, and can read three letter words. I'll be breaking out the Bob Books soon, and he is very excited. He is, like his sister, adept at math, so I'm hoping he'll overcome his shyness and join the math club next semester. Both children are studying (after a fashion -- we're all of us rather desultory and undisciplined) Latin, biology, and American history, and Wren is working through English from the Roots Up. Mostly, we are reading, crafting, cooking, and walking because that is what we do in the Autumn!

dinner tonight: shrimp scampi with tomato rice pilaf, toasted butter cupcakes

In which I cut up a chicken and Wren decides about Columbus.

I bought a broiler/fryer from the farm co-op last week, full of ambition. I'd never cut up a chicken, but I was tired of buying Perdue 'Pick of the Chick' and getting Frankenchicken parts of vastly different sizes. As it turns out, my breast halves still are different sizes, but the rest of it is pretty even and I'm absurdly pleased with myself for doing something that I suppose nearly every homemaker knew how to a generation ago. I brined the thing all day while we were at math club, and began the dissection after Mr. Baby went down for his nap. Now the pieces are marinating in rosemary-infused olive oil with lemon juice and zest. I'll brush them with more olive oil and sprinkle them with salt, pepper, and additional lemon zest before broiling them. I was tempted to fry them in peanut oil, but we haven't any potatoes and fried chicken without mashed potatoes just isn't right. Instead we're having egg noodles with lemon-herb butter and sweet peas. While I slaved away at chickens (and not a few dishes, besides a demanding baby!) Robin built with Lincoln Logs and Wren read about Columbus. We emphatically do not 'celebrate' Columbus Day, but we do take the opportunity to talk about the man and his impact on his own society as well as (Native) American civilization. Wren was incensed that the D'Aulaires didn't mention Columbus' cheating a crew member over the 'land ho' bonus, but towards the end felt a little sorry for him as he fell out of favor. Then she read about him taking advantage of a lunar eclipse to exploit more Indians and decided that he deserved to die a broken, disappointed, man who insisted that he'd found a western route to Asia despite all evidence to the contrary. So opens our study of American History, saints preserve us! We're more inclined to the Howard Zinn/Vine Deloria understanding, but I'm trying to strike a balance.

A 'typical day'

Like many homeschoolers, I can't really describe a 'typical day' for us; one sort of typical day involves about 2-3 hours of formal schoolwork before lunch, followed by various creative endeavors, project-based learning, or games. Another sort involves a trip to a museum or a park, or to the local library. Our favorite (and most frequent) 'typical day', however, involves a sunny, mild day in the backyard:

impromptu field trip

On the way home from our DI meeting today, we encountered some roadside construction. When Robin saw that the cement mixer truck was about to pour, he heaved a heavy sigh and lamented that 'we never get to see anything because we're always driving by.' This is untrue -- we walk a great deal and our little corner of the city usually has some kind of construction or destruction to observe -- but I felt his pain so we parked and got a closer look. The crew was rebuilding part of a curb, and we watched for about 20 minutes. As we left, Robin kept turning around to wave at the crew, and finally the guy operating the mixer truck honked his horn for us, which was the crowning glory for Robin. J was home for lunch when we got in, so Robin had the added joy of telling daddy all about our adventure. Robin's future plans have long included owning and operating both a cement mixer truck and a crane, and now he's even more determined on this course. I'm to have the privilege of making the drum go round, whether by pulling a lever or pushing a button or however it's done, whenever I want to.

Dinner tonight: Chicken paprikash over egg noodles, chocolate cupcakes for desert

Seasonal Table

Our seasonal table is spare these days, as early spring is spare, but with just a hint of green and growing things. We'll soon have pretty little glass bottles with buds and blossoms, and some pastel eggs dangling from the dogwood, but for now it's just my baby Bay Laurel, eager to go back outside, and some dogwood blossoms we forced (thereby triggering poor J's allergies, but what can you do?) brightening the living room corner. It looks quite nice in with the afternoon sun pouring in, but today was cloudy with the threat of snow, so the picture looks a little forlorn. We escaped the snow (my deepest sympathies to Ohio) but I fear for my fig tree that I uncovered last week, and Justin has threatened to bring the snow shovel back from the shed to the front porch 'in case'. I refuse to consider the possibility of more snow, and expect winter to retreat quietly into a corner by next weekend at the latest.

Dinner tonight: Beef Stew, quite possibly the last of the season!