A peaceful day

Q. How is the sabbath to be sanctified?
A. The sabbath is to be sanctified by a holy resting all that day, even from such worldly employments and recreations as are lawful on other days; and spending the whole time in the public and private exercises of God's worship, except so much as is to be taken up in the works of necessity and mercy.

We were travelling home in the car on Saturday a little after this photograph of a messy but exultant Jemimah posing after winning 'Best and Fairest' on her hockey team was taken. I was explaining to her Daddy that Jemimah was unable to play with her team in the District Lightening Premiership - the major event of the hockey year - because it was being played on a Sunday.

Turning to Jemimah I commented that I didn't think hockey fitted into either the category of necessity or of mercy, bringing to her mind to the words of Question 60 of the Westminster Shorter Catechism that I have quoted above.

"No," she replied, "It's the opposite." Hubby and I looked quizzically at one another. "The opposite?"

"Yep," she glibly replied. "Rule number one on the hockey field is 'Show no mercy!'

She smiled.

Glad I'm not playing against her team.

It is rather hard to imagine nowadays, but in my turbulent teens I was a 'folkie'. Every Friday and Saturday night would find me in smoky pubs and folk festivals jamming away on my tin whistles to tunes made famous by The Bushwackers, The Cobbers and their emulators. We danced the Brown Jug Polka and Strip the Willow and the Virginia Reel and mad galloping polka, to instruments like the ...ahem... Largerphone and the bodhran and the fiddle and the spoons and the squeezebox. It was rough and wild and great great fun. They are great memories.

The "Wackers," as they were fondly known are significantly responsible for the resurgence of Australian bush music and dancing in this country, and to me their version of the old songs is the only real version. The others are just plain wrong!

I've had their The Bushwackers Australian Song Book out in recent days as I plan for next term's folksongs. It has been a real nostalgia hit for me as I look through its battered pages. My copy is covered with old stickers saying things like 'smoking!' (a superlative in those days meaning much the same as the ubiquetous 'awesome' means today). Inside are glued words of old songs - The Black Velvet Band, The Catalpa and Lime-Juice Tub. It is old, worn and full of so many wonderful wonderful memories of my miss-spent youth.

Ah thems were the days.

While I was reminiscing, this page caught my eye. I remember thinking it was rather funny back in my youth, and it brought a smile to my face again today. Maybe it'll do the same for you. It's called The Matilda Waltzers' Union:

In 1877 the "professional" swagman - those who were swagmen by choice - formed their own "union". The inaugural meeting was held on the Lachlan River near Forbes in NSW and a collection of "frowsy deadbeats, loony hatters and aggressive cadgers" got together to vote office bearers and draw up regulations:

1. No member to be over 100 years old.
2. Each member to pay one pannikin of flour entrance fee. Members who don't care about paying will be admitted free.
3. No member to carry swags weighing over 10lb.
4. Each member to possess three complete sets of tucker-bags, each set to consist on nine bags.
5. No member to pass any station, farm, boundary-rider's hut, camp or private house without 'tapping' and obtaining rations and hand-outs.
6. No member to allow himself to be bitten by a sheep. If a sheep bites a member he must immediately turn it into mutton.
7. Members who defame a 'good' cook or pay a fine when run in shall be expelled from the Union.
8. No member is allowed to hum baking powder, tea, flour, sugar, or tobacco from a fellow-unionist.
9. Non-smoking members must 'whisper' for tobacco on every possible occasion, the same as other smokers.
10. At general or branch meetings non-smokers must ante up their whispered tobacco nuggets to be distributed amongst the officers of the Union.
11. Any member found without having at least two sets of bags filled with tucker will be fined.
12. No members to own more that one creek, river, or billabong bend. To sell bends for old boots or 'sinkers' is prohibited.
13. No member to look for or accept work of any description. Members found working will be at once expelled.
14. No member to walk more than five miles per day if rations can be hummed.
15. No member to tramp on Sundays at any price.

A further effort to give swagmen some kind of official status was a strange publication that appeared in 1900 entitled "The Swag: The Unofficial Flute of the Sundowners and Other Colonial Vagrants; with which is enfurcated the Bush Marconi and the Whaler's Telegraph".

The publication was aimed at the Governor-General, Lord Hopetoun, in the hope that he would obtain a better deal for the wanderers of the bush.

Amongst other things, the author reckoned that swaggies and their ilk, being true blue Aussies, should be represented at the functions celebrating the inauguration of the Commonwealth!

The Bushwackers Australian Song Book p44

Back to that Lagerphone. Are you curious? It was a upright pole - mostly a broom handle with two crosspieces covered in beer bottle tops. You played it by hitting the whole contraption instrument on the floor, and at the same time bashing the middle section with a solid piece of wood.

It wouldn't be Aussie bush music without it.

A grand reveal today. Noro scarf is all done. Finito!!

Right in time for my dear one to wear in the snow when he and Jemimah head off on their Annual Daddy-Daughter Ski Trip in a fortnight's time.

He is very pleased to have something hand-knitted by me, and I am very pleased at how well she has turned out. Given that she was made using left-overs.

Anyhow, here she is. Her pattern is from here. She is made of lots of different balls of Noro Silk Garden yarn, with a neutral shade between each coloured stripe. Apart from that, she is exactly like the pattern.

Waddayareckon?

PS While they're skiing, I'll be footloose and fancy free in Melbourne. What should I get up to?

What would you do if you were Home Alone for a week in the City? No kidlets, no responsibility...

by Archibald Mackay

Be kind to auld grannie, for noo she is frail,
As a time shatter'd tree bending low in the gale.
When ye were bairnies tott, totting about,
She watch'd ye when in, and she watched ye when out;
And aye when ye chanc'd in your daffin and fun,
To dunt your wee head on the cauld stanney grun',
She lifted ye up and she kiss'd ye fu' fain,
Till a' your bit cares were forgotten again.
Then be kind to auld grannie, for noo she is frail,
As a time shatter'd tree bending low in the gale.

When first in your breasts rose that feeling divine,
That's wak'd by the tales and the sangs o' lang syne,
Wi' auld-warld cracks she would pleasure inspire,
In the lang winter nights as she sat by the fire;
Or melt your young hearts wi' some sweet Scottish lay,
Like "Flow'rs o' the Forest" or "Auld Robbie Gray";
Though eerie the win' blew around our bit cot,
Grim winter and a' its wild blasts were forgot;
Then be kind to auld grannie, for noo she is frail,
As a time shatter'd tree bending low in the gale.

And mind though the blythe day o' youth is noo yours,
Time will wither its joys, as wild winter the flow'rs;
And your step that's noo licht as the bound o' the roe,
Wi' cheerless auld age may be feeble and slow;
And the frien's o' your youth to the grave may be gane,
And ye on its brink may be tott'ring alane;
Oh, think how consoling some frien' would be then,
When the gloaming o' life comes like mist o'er the glen;
Then be kind to auld grannie, for noo she is frail,
As a time shatter'd tree bending low in the gale.

Meaning of unusual words:
bairnies=children
aye=always
daffin=romp
dunt=bump
stanney grun'=stony ground
fu' fain=full of affection
lang syne=long ago
auld-warld cracks=old world stories
mind=remember
gloaming=twilight/dusk

Think we might learn this one next term...

Anybody else heard it before?

True Blue Wonders Lyrics

Words: D.A. Hollingworth; Music: C.S. Searle and D.A. Hollingworth

There is a song that rides the wind as it sweeps this ancient land
It tells of a land of wonders and those who call it home
Come walkabout in our big backyard and listen for the song
You might hear the kangaroo singing right along

Yonga, yonga, yonga, yonga
Yonga, yonga, yonga, yonga

Kangaroo lives in the land down under
Kangaroo is a true blue wonder
Come walkabout in our big backyard and listen for the song
You might hear the kookaburra singing right along

Koo-wark, koo-wark, koo-wark, koo-wark
Koo-wark, koo-wark, koo-wark, koo-wark

Kookaburra lives in the land down under
Kookaburra is a true blue wonder
Come walkabout in our big backyard and listen for the song
You might hear the crocodile singing right along

Bäru, bäru, bäru, bäru
Bäru, bäru, bäru, bäru ...

Crocodile lives in the land down under
Crocodile is a true blue wonder
Come walkabout in our big backyard and listen for the song
You might hear the dingo singing right along

Ngurran, ngurran, ngurran, ngurran
Ngurran, ngurran, ngurran, ngurran

Dingo lives in the land down under
Dingo is a true blue wonder
You and I are true blue wonders
We come from the land down under

Sometimes life is so unfair!!

This photo is of the tops of the heads of two of my absolutely favouritest dearest blog friends.

Sitting together.

Without me.

So incredibly jealous, I am. In fact, I'm quite green.

I won't tell you who they are, but if you'll pop over here you'll discover that they're sitting there listening to another of my dear friends, Nancy from Sage Parnassus. (You can tell she's cleverer than me because her header is writ in Latin.

That makes me jealous as well.

One day I'm going to go to a Living Education Retreat. I'm going to wheedle my way in between those two heads, and I'm going to listen to Nancy and all those other clever people so that I can become a super homeschool mum like they are.

In the meantime I'm going to sulk.

Okay, so I'm weak willed. I'll admit it.

I know I do not need a fourth copy of Charles and Mary Lamb's Tales from Shakespeare. I know.

But tell me honestly - would you have been able to walk past this gilt edged beauty if you were the one to spy it in a second-hand bookstore near where you live? Well? Would you?

It's in perfect condition. The binding is tight, there is almost no foxing, and it has beautiful illustrations. In colour. Swoonly swoon. I mean to say.

What do you think I am?

I've just discovered that there's a companion volume of Bunyan's The Pilgrim's Progress. I'm sure I need that too. Quite sure.

Unless any of you can convince me that I really don't need a ninth edition of that book.

Good luck with that.

Who else is watching Nim's Island with their childers tonight?

In Australia we have a real legacy to treasure in our wonderful repetoire of Australian folksong. Through their words we learn of our convict heritage (Van Diemen's Land and Ten Thousand Miles Away), our bushrangers (Bold Jack Donohoe and The Wild Colonial Boy), our swaggies (With my Swag all on my Shoulder, as well as Matilda, of course) and our shearers (Click Go the Shears and Flash Jack from Gundagai). We learn what it is to be Australian.

These are songs that have survived the ultimate test - that of time - to become folklore because they resonated in some way with the people who sang them and passed down on through the generations. As such, the songs become pointers of our cultural history and national identity.

Our own Australian identity, as distinct from that of our British forebears, was formed in the pioneering days of the 19th century. We were no longer convicts but free settlers. We fought bushfires, droughts, floods (ugh!), pestilence, and often the Crown. It is this pioneering spirit that makes us the people we are today - regardless of whether as Australians we are recent immigrants or are proud to say we have ancestors who arrived on the First Fleet.

As our lives become more and more complicated, and more and more culturally homogeneous with the nebulous global megaculture of television, we need folksongs more than ever. They are special because they carry the unique stories that are the legacy of our nation. They are a wonderful way to celebrate our own history in this rapidly changing world.

You will not be surprised then to discover that we have diverged significantly from the AO folksong lineup to include many, many more Australian folksongs. In addition to this, there are many songs that while not being necessarily part of my country's heritage, are certainly part of mine. Some are songs I learned at school; some are the very special songs my parents sang to me. These are part of my family heritage, and I want them to become part of my daughter's history as well. Then there are the songs of England - my husband's homeland; the songs of Scotland from whence my dear Dad hailed; and the songs of the Ireland of my mother's family. We spend a term on each of these.

Folksongs integrate really closely with a country. A cursory listen to the folksongs of a country will reveal distinct rhythmic differences. You would never confuse the music of France from that of England, for example, even without the lyrics. The words, too, tell us about a people. The children's songs of France, often talk of bodily functions that are never referred to in our English songs for the same age. Japanese songs do that too. As a consequence of this link between country and song, we learn Japanese folksongs before our regular visits to that country.

For this same reason, folksongs really enhance our foreign language study. We are blessed to have been able to visit France many times. We have many wonderful memories of sing-alongs with friends from that country when they have discovered with delight that Jemimah knows the same French nursery songs as their children do. She might not be able to speak very fluently with them, but in song there is no impediment at all!!

It is difficult to imagine studying the middle ages without including mediaeval music and folksong. We did them both in AO2 with much success, learning such old English songs as Early One Morning; Sumer is icumen; I Gave my Love a Cherry; and Greensleeves. It enhanced our study wonderfully. How could you study Bonnie Prince Charlie without including My Bonnie Lies over the Ocean, or of Australia's involvement in WWI without And the Band Played Waltzing Matilda or of the damming of the Snowy without the Snowy River Roll? For me folk music in inextricably twined with so much of what we learn.

So how do we study folksongs? It always surprises me that this is a subject that homeschoolers neglect. Apart from all the obvious benefits from their study, singing folksongs is FUN! There are no rules in how you sing them. There is no 'right way'. To add singing into your day that's all you have to do - sing!!

We sing every day. Psalms twice week; French folksongs twice a week; English folksongs (that is songs in English, not from England) once. The Psalms we sing A Capella; the others we sing accompanied, almost invariably, by a YouTube clip.

The vast majority of our French songs are traditional French chansons. Occasionally we chuck in one that helps with language - Jean Petit qui Danse, or L'Alphabet en Chantant. Most of our folksongs are Australian. If we can find a song that fits into our historical study we'll add that in. We've done a term of Scotland for Parsie, and a term of England for Daddy. Ireland comes next. We've also studied a term of Japan.

If you can integrate singing with your other studies, then to me that's the ideal. But really it is more important just to get started. Pick a song and sing. At some stage you might want to learn a bit about what the song's talking about. That's a bonus. If it's in a different language you may want to translate it. That's a bonus too.

When we sing, we try to learn what we're singing by heart. Because for us the biggest bonus of all is at the end of the term the song stops being something to learn and forms part of our Family Song Book. They're the songs we sing together in the car, and around the campfire, and whilst we're we're walking in the bush. These are the songs that are forming part of our family identity, much in the same way that folksongs have done in times gone by.

One day, I hope, Jemimah will teach them to her children.

Ideas alone matter in Education - The whole subject is profound, but as practical as it is profound. We must disabuse our minds of the theory that the functions of education are, in the main, gymnastic. In the early years of the child's life it makes, perhaps, little apparent difference whether his parents start with the notion that to educate is to fill a receptacle, inscribe a tablet, mould plastic matter, or nourish a life; but in the end we shall find that only those ideas which have fed his life are taken into the being of the child; all the rest is thrown away, or worse, is like sawdust in the system, an impediment and an injury to the vital processes.

Charlotte Mason Parents and Children p38

A friend of mine drew my attention to this section of Charlotte Mason's writing over the weekend, and I just couldn't wait to get home today to grab my Volume 2 off the shelf to read it in context. You see, I've always been privately convinced of the idea that regardless of the educational methods employed, the majority of what a child is taught in the tender years is mere scaffolding for what is to come.

By that I mean that the simple addition we teach now will lead to algebra which will lead to calculus; the alphabet lessons will lead to Shakespeare; introductory stories about great historical men will lead to a greater understanding of the pageant of history; the rich living books will lead to an extensive vocabulary, this is true. But it is equally evident that much of the actual content of what we teach in the early years is 'thrown away by the child'.

I am saddened when Jemimah forgets the content of wonderful living books she narrated so enthusiastically in AO1. How could she just forget the names of the Great Lakes that we spent so much time on as we followed Paddle on his journey to the Sea? Or no longer know the story of Benjamin Franklin's kite? I've always assumed, despite my sorrow that this was normal and inevitable. And I think it is. Miss Mason seems to think so, anyhow.

Until today I had wondered privately to a couple of AO mums whether this view of mine was possibly anti -CM. Silly me. I should have realised that something I notice in my control sample of one child would have been noticed by Miss Mason with her sample size of thousands.

After the quotation above, Charlotte goes on to explore the theory that it is the duty of parents to sustain a child's inner life with ideas that strike him, impress him, seize him, take possession of him and rule him, in the same was as they sustain his body with food. These initial ideas then beget subsequent ideas and so on in a predictable and logical line, and so inevitably, the destiny of life is shaped in the nursery.

This changes my mind set entirely. Instead of being concerned at how much Jemimah has forgotten, I am wondering afresh at how much she knows. I remember her incredible ability at maths in only a few short years. I see the books she reads and understands, the Shakespeare she adores, the music and poetry and opera and ballet that broaden her outlook, the kindred spirits that she has in the characters of her books. I think of the great historical lives she has to emulate, the citizenship that she is developing, the empathy that she feels for those of different creeds and colours, the depth of knowledge and understanding she has of Scripture and the faith that she displays and I feel content. I feel more than content.

When Jemimah sees Benjamin Franklin's name, the kite and the key are faintly remembered after all. The Great Lakes might no longer have names, but one is shaped like a wolf's head and the Isle Royale is its eye. Can I ask for more?

Jemimah is only in Grade Three (AO4). She has only just started on the journey that is her education. As of today I am going to renew my efforts to ensure that the predictable and logical line that it points to is the destiny I want for my daughter. Because that destiny began in Grade Prep and it is my responsibility to furnish her with the initiative ideas on which the successive ideas germinate, and to ensure that the ideas stay within the due limits of their course and don't become the sawdust that clogs the system. That is my duty as her teacher. And now after reading this quote I'm going to do it better.

What do you think?

So excited about this one.

Do your family love Tintin as much as we do?

...I'll be here...

...attending this.

David Cook is the keynote speaker, on The Unheeded Teachings of Christ. I'll also be listening to Murray Capill, Peter Barnes and Andrew Stewart. You can read more about them here. Jemimah's sessions are on A World in Darkness.

If previous conferences are anything to go by, it'll be a great weekend.

What are you up to?

No, this is not fun.

Of course it's not.

It's a science experiment.

Don't you know anything?

This is school.

Isn't it great when your science curriculum demands that you eat icecream?

We're studying conduction in our science book, Physics Lab in the Home by Bob Friedhoffer. This is the second in the series that we've studied, and I must say they're terrific little books.

Some weeks we just read a page or two. Other weeks we do a simple experiment. Like eating icecream. Your favourite flavour, it says. In a cone.

We chose the living books and Friedhoffer route over Ambleside Online's alternative recommendation, one of the books in Jeannie Fulbright's Exploring Creation series, for one reason, and that is because I cannot for the life of me work out how you can integrate Fulbright's wonderful books with AO without totally overburdening your child.

We tried Exploring Creation with Astronomy in AO2. It is a great book, and we really tried, but honestly the combination of this with all our AO work almost brought me to my knees. We only got half way through by the end of the year and we've never finished it since.

Jeannie Fulbright makes no apology for the thoroughness of her curriculum. She calls it The Immersion Approach, and she recommends giving kids an in-depth exposure into each science topic from the word go rather than lurching spirally from a minute amount of one topic to the next. Now in part I agree with her - and I love her books, but to get through one in a year requires at least an hour each week. Probably more to get everything from a lesson.

I would really like to use Exploring Creation with Botany. I have it on my shelf, and there is so much wonderful stuff in it. Looking through it though, I think I could get through a lesson in a month only by spending two afternoons on it a week. At least. Probably more. Add to that an afternoon of nature study and that's three afternoons on science alone. It totally unbalances my schedule. It adds hours to our school day. It just wouldn't work.

So the question for those mummas who are cleverer than me is this: Have any of you successfully integrated these books with AO? If so how? Did you leave out the majority of the book and just pick and choose, or do you do it over a couple of years, or do you leave out other AO stuff for science? I'm inclining toward the pick and choose alternative for next year. The book is sitting on my shelf, and I may as well use it. I just want to keep science in balance, that's all.

In the mean time we'll stick with Bob. And eat icecream.

For what it's worth, a cone is a great insulator; your tongue is not. So now you know.

I'm sure I'm not the only person who was captivated as a little person by the idea of Helen Keller learning to speak. I had this wonderful book of her life that I would read over and over, trying to imagine what speaking to Helen would be like.

Well now, many, many years later I know just what it looked like. Thanks to YouTube. I must admit the video brought a tear to my eye.

Wasn't Annie Sullivan a blessing to young Helen?

Helen's own autobiography is free online here. It is well worth the read.

You can get it free for Kindle here.

Jemimah will be reading it as one of our free reads in AO5 next year.

What are you listening to this beautiful day?

I left home at 18 to study at the University of Melbourne. It was a strange year, as I am sure first years away from home often are - exciting and lonely at the same time.

Every Friday night I would travel the hour and a half home to Geelong to earn some spending money by working in my parents' catering business. Well, that was the official reason, anyhow. Mostly I just liked being at home with my family. The weekends would pass by far too quickly, and then there we would be at Sunday evening already, and it would be time to jump into my little white car and leave again.

I was always sad.

Actually, I'm always sad to leave my mum, even all these years later. I always feel torn as I hug her goodbye and leave her waving behind us at the retreating car. My Mum and Dad were wonderful parents.

Anyhow, back to the story. I think my Mum always felt sad as leaving time approached as well. Often she would take me outside for a peregrination around her garden and a bit of a chat before we parted, and she would gather together a tussie-mussie of whatever was in bloom for me to take back to Uni. The bunch would last the whole week, reminding me of home and just brightening my life. I loved them.

There was often a time in early winter when collecting a bunch of flowers was nigh on impossible, but that made first little posy we could collect in late winter very special indeed. We always called it a Spring Bunch, because that's what it made us look forward to. Often it was fragrant with Daphne - then and now one of our favourites. Sometimes there would be a little sprig of sweetly scented lily of the valley. Almost always there was a rose and some 'love in a mist'. Oh what lovely memories!

Today I picked my very first Spring Bunch of this winter. It is filled with jonquils, larkspur, out of season aggies and those little pink flowers that I call pink forget-me-nots but aren't. It is fragrant with the spicy scent of roses and jonnies.

It reminds me of my Mum, but I picked it for my Dad. It is a year today since he was diagnosed with the mesothelioma that would take his life. I miss him very much.

Today I started pruning my roses.

Alone.