Goodnight Bloggers

See you in the morning.

Keeping up appearances

I realise that we fail miserably in our responsibility of behaving like homeschoolers.

We have only one child to begin with. That, of course, is probably our biggest failing. Not only that, we immunise her. Against almost everything. We are proponents of mainstream western medicine, and we don't embrace naturopathy, osteopathy, homeopathy, biomesotherapy, Buteyko, Chi nei tsang, kinesiology or ear candling, although my husband does visit a chiropractor occasionally, and we are fond addicts of both remedial and relaxation massage and of incense - not for its aromatherapeutic properties but because it smells nice. I worked for more than ten years for huge multinational pharmaceutical companies, and do not regard them as harbingers of evil.

We eat white rice, white bread, MSG, red meat, dairy products and sugar, although we do prepare most of our foods ourselves and rarely purchase it pre-packaged in a carton, tin or jar. We do not eat them all in the same meal. We drink wine. And champagne. And soft drink. And Diet Coke, full of chemical additives. We all like McDonalds.

We are Sabbath observers. We practice exclusive Psalmody and we sing no hymns. We believe in a young earth. We do not celebrate Christmas or Easter as religious holidays, but Santa, the Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy are all parts of childhood fun. We read about fairytale witches and magic, but not the occult or new age religions. We are very afraid of books like this.





We have a television, and we listen to modern music. And classical, and Kitaro, which some call New Age, but we call nice.

We like Growing Kids God's Way and Garry and Anne Marie Ezzo, but we continually evaluate and refine our parenting methods, depending more on God's grace than on the expertise and ingenuity of others.

Three times I have started the next paragraph, but I think it is too controversial and I think you will un-follow me if I leave it, so I won't.

I will leave you with a photo of our new season's Birkies. Mine, and Jemimah's. Soon hers will be bigger than mine, but so far I win. In this, at least, we look like homeschoolers. In this our behaviour is typical.

There had to be something.

What's your traveller IQ?

The Book Chook posted a link to this frustrating geography challenge this morning.

Here's my result if you want to challenge. Yes, I know - below 100. It is hard!

And I thought geography was my strong suit.

Sing-along with Rolf

I'm not quite sure whether I love Sing-along with Rolf Harris primarily because it takes me back to the idyllic days of my own childhood and singing loudly in the car with my beloved family on the way to Melbourne, or whether I love it most because it is warm, wonderful, singable and iconically Australian music sung by a living national treasure. Either way, this is one of our favouritest children's CDs of all time.

The collection includes all of the songs that are supposed to be there - Two Little Boys, Jake the Peg, Tie Me Kangaroo Down, Sport, Six White Boomers, and Sun Arise. Of my favourites, only The Court of King Caractacus is missing (why is this so?). In addition there are other great, and imminently addictive songs including Pavlova (Australia's favourite fruit), and Along the Road to Gundagai. You'll hear the didgeridoo, the Jews Harp, the stylophone, and, of course, the wobble board. Oh, this CD is a seriously major big-time blast from my past.

Rolf Harris is part of what it means to be an Aussie - he's part of our musical heritage. The fact that he takes me for a nostalgic wander down memory lane helps a lot as well. I'm sure your family will love singing along with Rolf just as much as ours does.

Here are a few tunes to get you started:









And this one because I love it so:

One Thousand Gifts - the app

You may be aware that just quietly and between us, I am not a fan of New York Times bestselling author Ann Voskamp's book, One Thousand Gifts.

It is the purple prose that gets me (browse here to get an idea of what I mean). Ann's book doesn't have purple patches or purple passages - it is the purplest of purple from start to finish. It irritates me immensely.

Which is a shame, because the premise behind the book is marvellous. In One Thousand Gifts: A Dare to Live Fully Right Where You Are, Ann teaches us to count our blessings by intentionally counting one thousand gifts. I like it.

That's why I am excited by the new One Thousand Gifts app for iPhone/iPad and Android. The free app helps you to count and share your blessings one by one all the way to one thousand.

I've uploaded it to my phone this morning, and I going to start numbering my blessings today. Will you join me?

Count your blessings
Johnson Oatman Jr.

When upon life’s billows you are tempest tossed,
When you are discouraged, thinking all is lost,
Count your many blessings, name them one by one,
And it will surprise you what the Lord hath done.

Count your blessings, name them one by one,
Count your blessings, see what God hath done!
Count your blessings, name them one by one,
And it will surprise you what the Lord hath done.

Are you ever burdened with a load of care?
Does the cross seem heavy you are called to bear?
Count your many blessings, every doubt will fly,
And you will keep singing as the days go by.

When you look at others with their lands and gold,
Think that Christ has promised you His wealth untold;
Count your many blessings. Wealth can never buy
Your reward in heaven, nor your home on high.

So, amid the conflict whether great or small,
Do not be disheartened, God is over all;
Count your many blessings, angels will attend,
Help and comfort give you to your journey’s end.

More purple prose from Ann here. (Is it called prose when it's spoken? Possibly not...)

Why, oh why?

Why, oh why would they release magnificent hardcover, full-colour retro editions of Enid Blyton's most loved books,The Enchanted Wood and The Magic Faraway Tree and then add the revised modernised text?

The Magic Faraway Tree without Dick and Fanny and Jo and Bessie just doesn't do it for me, I'm afraid. You?

I feel like having Dame Slap give these editors a good dose of corporal punishment, I do.

Except there's no slapping in these versions.

It's Dame Snap now, you know.

It's all so awfully peculiar.

Thanksgiving

In 1612 in Amsterdam, Henry Ainsworth published The Book of Psalmes: Englished both in Prose and Metre with Annotations (Amsterdam, 1612) for the use of Protestant separatist congregations in Holland. The Psalter contained 39 tunes, of English,Dutch and French origin.

This Ainsworth Psalter was brought to Plymouth Colony in 1620 by America's Pilgrim Fathers, and was used there for a generation until the printing of the Bay Psalm Book, The Whole Booke of Psalmes Faithfully Translated into English Metre, in 1640 - the first book to be printed in the colonies.

It seems timely on this, America's day of Thanksgiving, to read from the pilgrim's Ainsworth Psalter, Psalm 100 - a psalm of thanksgiving for his mercies to us:

Psalm 100

Showt to Jehovah, al the earth.

Serv ye Jehovah with gladnes: before him come with singing-merth.

Know that Jehovah he God is:
It’s he that made us, and not wee,his folk, and sheep of His feeding.

Oh with confession enter yee
his gates, his courtyards with praising:
Confess to him, bless ye his name.

Because Jehovah he good is;
his mercy ever is the same:
and his faith unto al ages.

(You can sing it to the tune of Old 100th.) Listen to Psalm 4 from the Ainsworth Psalter sung here. Be patient - it comes after the Latin Ubi caritas.



This Thanksgiving I give thanks:

• For the mercies of our loving and faithful God and for the saving grace of his son, Jesus Christ.
• For overwhelming gifts of kindness from both friends and strangers since the flood.
• For my precious family and for the privilege of having been raised in a loving Christian home.
• For the ability to homeschool Jemimah and for wonderful ladies of the AO Advisory.
• For enduring friendships, both virtual and real life.

P.S. I learned about the Ainsworth Psalter here.

A dream job or two

Oh what a lovely lot of interesting comments came from my last post. I so love talking about books.

I've been suffering from writers block for a while now, and yet today I'm bubbling over with interesting ideas for things to talk to you about. Sadly, I'm working and I really, really can not spend the day blogging about books and libraries, however tempting that is, but I thought I would just drop in and say how much I'm enjoying the discussion.

Lisa suggests that I should be a librarian. She says that she can see me working in rare books or in an Art Museum library. What do you reckon?

Actually, if I ever were to be a librarian there are two places I'd absolutely love to work. One is in Melbourne working with the SLV's Children's Collection. Take a look see:



Now to me, this would be the bestest wonderfulest most swoon-worthy job in the whole country. Sigh.

Excepting one.

Working at the National Library in Canberra cataloguing their Marcie Muir Children's Collection. That would have to be nearly as good as being a homeschooling mum.

Nearly.

What other wonderful children's collections do you know of? Does your local state library have a special collection? Do you live in Amherst near The Eric Carle Museum of Picture Book Art, for example? Or near Dromkeen? Or the Cotsen Children's Library? Do you get along to the Fay B. Kaigler Children's Book Festival each year? Tell me where else I'd love to work if I were a librarian.

Oh, I do love talking about books.

Lisa likes talking about books too. I get lots of my book recommendations from her blog, Hopewell Takes on Life. Get along and have a look around. Lisa reads even more than I do, I think. What's more, she's homeschooled using AO. She can cook. And guess what? Lisa really is a librarian. Yep. In real life. I think you'll like her blog. I do.

The Home Library

One of the few exciting things to come out of the January floods was the recent realisation that we could turn our guest room into a library. We'll still want to be able to accommodate family and friends mind you, but freed from the constraints of existing furniture, we'll be able to do that with a sofa bed, and let's face it - every good library needs a sofa to snuggle into anyhow, so that's an advantage, not a problem.

We already have lots of bookshelves, of course. You can see some of them here. Up top is the study shelf. It houses literature and poetry and cookery books. You can see another photo of that one here. It's pretty big, but it is also very full. But wait - there's more! There are two 5x5 Expedits in Jemimah's room. One is for picture books. the other is for children's literature. That one is below. And one 5x5 Expidit in the Sitting Room. It's full of books on the Decorative Arts - textiles and gardens and interior decoration and Japanese aesthetics and crochet. That's the pic above. And a 2x12 in the study. It's for reference books and for books on books and art books. And a smaller one in our bedroom. Christian books and my 'to be read' pile. There are cookery books in the kitchen, of course, and there's a built in bookshelf in the loo. As you do...don't you? Short stories and magazines there mostly.

Still there are piles. Piles and piles and piles of books. Much loved but without a home to call their own. And without a home they're hard to find. And I don't like being unable to lay my hand on just the book I'm looking for just when I want it.

When you take into account the fact that each year of AO adds an extra metre or so of books just on its own, the homeless problem is just going to get worse and worse (or is that better and better?) Hence the idea of the library.

I'd love my book room to look like this:



Then again, Brazenhead is really the antithesis of the wabi sabi style we adhere to in our Peaceful Home, and would probably drive my family half mad. I'm more likely to end up with a neat room, I think. Lately I've been pouring over my copy of At Home with Books. Subtitled How booklovers live with and care for their libraries, this lovely book - one of my favourites - was first published in 1995, and contains photographs of some of the most beautiful private libraries on the planet. This is my definition of an inspirational book.

I have plenty of time to dream and to plan. We have many many tasks to complete before my book room will come to fruition. Walls to straighten and replaster and paint. Carpet to lay. Doors to replace. Still, dreaming of my book room is giving me lots and lots of pleasure. Imagine - a library of my very own.

I am not naive enough that I do not recognise the imminent demise of the printed book. Mine is likely to be the last generation that venerates paper books like I do, I realise that. Still, for me the printed book will always reign supreme. I love my iPad and Kindle, but for me the pleasure I get from pouring over the pages of At Home with Books can not yet be replicated by either of my e-book readers. The videos of Brazenhead come close though.

What about you? How do you store your books? My fellow biblioholic friend, Erin, has one of the most beautiful libraries I've ever seen. I've been pouring over her blog as well. Here's the link if you too want to covet. Do you have a library that I need to peruse? If so, please do share the link. I'd so love to have a gander. Do you think printed books will survive? Have they already been usurped in your home? Come and talk to me - chatting about books is one of my very favourite pastimes. I really, really do want to hear what you have to say.

The Gift of Music

So very, very beautiful. Don't you agree?

Strawberry Fair

As I was going to Strawberry Fair,
Singing, singing, Butter-cups and Daisies
I met a maiden taking her ware,
Fol-de-dee!
Her eyes were blue and golden her hair,
As she went on to Strawberry Fair,
Ri-fol, Ri-fol, Tol-de-riddle-li-do,
Ri-fol, Ri-fol, Tol-de-riddle-dee.

"Kind Sir, pray pick of my basket!" she said,
Singing, singing, Butter-cups and Daisies
"My cherries ripe, or my roses red,
Fol-de-dee!
My strawberries sweet, I can of them spare,
As I go on to Strawberry Fair."
Ri-fol, Ri-fol, Tol-de-riddle-li-do,
Ri-fol, Ri-fol, Tol-de-riddle-dee.

I want to purchase a generous heart,
Singing, singing, Butter-cups and Daisies
A tongue that neither is nimble or tart.
Tol-de-dee!
An honest mind, but such trifles are rare
I doubt if they're found at Strawberry Fair.
Ri-fol, Ri-fol, Tol-de-riddle-li-do,
Ri-fol, Ri-fol, Tol-de-riddle-dee.

The price I offer, my sweet pretty maid
Singing, singing, Butter-cups and Daisies
A ring of gold on your finger displayed,
Tol-de-dee!
So come- make over to me your ware,
In church today at Strawberry Fair.
Ri-fol, Ri-fol, Tol-de-riddle-li-do,
Ri-fol, Ri-fol, Tol-de-riddle-dee

I'm afraid you just have to face facts, city mice friends. There are some things that we country mice just do better. Like Strawberry Fairs. Can you really imagine a Strawberry Fair in the city? Really? Ahem, I didn't think so.

Some of the ladies in the Uniting Ladies didn't want to run it this year. Because of the flood. They were over-ruled by the other Uniting Ladies who said that they had to run it. Because of the flood. As you do. Anyhow, they did run it and it was as wonderful as ever. I'm ever so glad that they were re-United. Sorry.

I'm also sorry I didn't take my camera, so you have only two lousy photos, and those taken with my phone, but imagine, if you will rows of tables each covered with hand embroidered tablecloths and little bunches of delightful spring flowers. The tea candles are in glasses, each with its own hand knitted jacket of baby blue.

There are rows of beautifully dressed ladies of a certain age, or older, eating from delightfully non-matching plates of mixed sandwiches - nothing fancy, just the old reliable fillings that they've always had - egg, ham, tomato and onion, devilled ham paste, coleslaw (who else but the Uniting ladies do coleslaw sandwiches, I ask you). Anyhow, I think you have the idea. Six points and a sprig of parsley. The curly type. (Is there another?)

Later on, cut crystal bowls of strawberries and vanilla icecream. Cups of coffee or tea. Lots of laughter.

Afterwards you can take your pick of plants from the plant stall, or fill your basket with punnets of ripe red strawberries to take home. I did both. You can browse the craft stall, or just sit in the sun and chat to the ladies. I love talking to ladies of a certain age, or older. So much wisdom. So gracious. So appreciative. So complimentary.

Sometimes I so love being a country mouse.

So come- make over to me your ware,
In church today at Strawberry Fair.
Ri-fol, Ri-fol, Tol-de-riddle-li-do,
Ri-fol, Ri-fol, Tol-de-riddle-dee

Pet Shop Maths - the verdict

So the Pet Shop made a profit. $6884.98 profit to be exact. Which isn't too bad over the 'year'.

I last spoke to you about Simply Charlotte Mason's Business Maths Pet Store on Day One of the course - right back at the beginning of term. We were pretty excited. Now that we're at the end I thought you might like to know what we think now.

And we're still happy. For us, this programme was a perfect choice. Let me remind you that I was becoming concerned that Jemimah was moving too far ahead in MEP maths. At the beginning of term three of AO4 she was more than half way through MEP Year 5. I could see her love of maths waning, and I really didn't want that. A term of maths practice seemed a perfect solution.

That's what Pet Shop Maths was for us - maths practice. Now at the end of term Jemimah's adding and subtracting of columns of decimals has improved dramatically. She is able to calculate a percentage by changing it to a decimal and multiplying. She can calculate a percentage increase. She can maintain a ledger and knows what one is for. Most importantly, she has regained a love for maths, and has some idea of how it is used in every day life. The programme was fun and quick. Most days we could get the work done in five minutes, allowing time for some multiplication practice in a quick game of Timez Attack, or to just relax.

In case you're wondering, Pet Shop Maths isn't a full maths curriculum. The skills I mention above are pretty much all it involves. It is best regarded as an adjunct to a regular maths curriculum - or a break from one - rather than as a stand -alone maths programme.

Each 'month' the tasks are the same. By the end of the book Jemimah was bored by them, but by then it didn't matter, she had mastered them and we were done. What she most loved was the random Chance cards that added an element of risk to each month. Would the card be a goodie or a baddie? Would it put us into debt or increase sales? Jemimah loved picking Chance cards.

For me the best bit was removing the angst that seemed to be accompanying maths lessons. I loved the way the books were set out, and I loved how quickly we could get things done.

For us, Pet Shop Maths served its purpose very well indeed.

Little Fish

Another one of my favourites to share with Jemimah. So many wonderful, wonderful folk songs; so little time.



And three versions of the lyrics. Which one do you remember?

The Little Prince

This is our summer read-aloud. Isn't this pop-up The Little Prince just divine?

Personally I dislike the existential philosophy that pervades this book - the plight of the individual in an unfathomable universe. The book tells us that only children know what is important in life and that you can find the truth if you want it with all your heart.

On ne voit bien qu'avec le cœur. L'essentiel est invisible pour les yeux. ("It is only with the heart that one can see rightly. What is essential is invisible to the eye.")

The little prince searches for meaning in a seemingly meaningless universe, but as Christians, we know the chief end of man - we know why we're here. We have the Bible to tell us right from wrong. We know what is important. We regard God as the centre of the universe - not man.

The philosophy of this book stopped me reading it to Jemimah for a time, and yet, despite my misgivings, I really wanted her to know and to enjoy the good bits of this story - the delightful characters, for example - as well as to consider some of the questions that the book raises - from a Christian point-of-view not an existentialist one. Still, I dithered.

The Little Prince was voted 'Best Book of the 20th C' in France, and sells over a million copies a year, almost 60 years after publication. It is the most read and most translated book in the French language. It is much quoted, and has been adapted to stage, screen, ballet and opera. Eventually it was this significant link with French cultural identity that persuaded me to at least give it a go. It seemed an integral link for a full study of French language and culture.

So far we're enjoying it. We've looked at some important questions - What is the difference between reality and make-believe? Can a child's perception of something be more real than an adult's? What is Jesus saying in Matthew 18?

And he said: “Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Therefore, whoever takes the lowly position of this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven. And whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me. Matthew 18: 3-5 NIV

What about the words of the Teacher in Ecclesiastes?

“Meaningless! Meaningless!” says the Teacher. “Utterly meaningless! Everything is meaningless.” Ecclesiastes 1: 2 NIV

Significantly, when I asked Jemimah what the picture was of she said it was a snake that had eaten something. To me it looked like a hat. What does this say? Are adults blind to the truth? (Was blind but now I see...)

Have you read The Little Prince to your kids? Did they like it? Did you? Did it raise interesting questions? Is it okay to read books to your kids that espouse a philosophy different from your own? Talk to me.

Lest we forget

Just in time for Remembrance Day, my family is incredibly excited about the publication of journalist, Peter Rees,' latest book, Desert Boys.

Using letters, diaries, interviews and unpublished memoirs, Desert Boys tells the intensely personal and gripping story of two generations of Australian soldiers, providing us with a unique insight into their thoughts, feelings and experiences.

One of the stories Peter Rees explores in depth throughout Desert Boys is that of my grandfather, Sloan Bolton. Have a read of the beginning of the book here:

The armed guard thrust a bayonet at the two men outside the Geelong drill hall. The men backed off. But they wanted to enlist, so they approached again, and explained why they wanted to join the army. This time the sentry jerked his rifle and waved them through. Sloan Bolton and one of his mates were on their way to the Great War. Sloan had been nicknamed 'Scotty' by mates who mistook his northern Irish accent for a Scottish one. He didn't object. It was early spring, 1914, He was between jobs chaff cutting and had pulled into Geelong for a week's break before heading back to the farms to work. As Scotty walked the city's streets, he couldn't help but notice the many men wearing the khaki uniform of the Australian Imperial Force (AIF). He began to think about going to the war that had been declared just a month earlier...

And so Alea iacta est - the die is cast.

The situation we read about in this very first paragraph would change the future for my grandfather forever. He would return home from that war both as a hero and an invalid. He would be awarded the Distinguished Conduct Medal, the army's second ranking award for gallantry, but he would also spend nearly two years in Caulfield Military Hospital learning how to walk again on not one, but two, artificial limbs after receiving a direct hit from a military shell only a few weeks before armistice was declared. He would live to become a husband and a father and a champion cattle breeder, but he would also die at 53 years of age. I would never know him.

War would never be as exciting in reality at Sloan expected it to be that day in Geelong with his mate, Jack. It never is.

And so today on the 11/11/11 we remember. We're excited about Desert Boys because to us Grandpa Sloan 'Scotty' Bolton was a real hero, and we need to remember him and the other boys in this book. We remember them, though, not to glorify war, but to honour the young men and women who served and who fought to defend our freedom. We remember, and we give thanks to God for their lives and their bravery.

They went with songs to the battle, they were young.
Straight of limb, true of eyes, steady and aglow.
They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted,
They fell with their faces to the foe.

They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning,
We will remember them.

Lest We Forget

Self indulgence

An unknown red floribunda in the Red and Green Garden.

Looking up into the canopy of trees in the courtyard.

Rosa 'Madame Isaac Perriere' with happy little 'Johnnie-jump-ups' in the background.

The splendour of 'Abraham Darby' lining the front fence.

Rosa 'Pierre de Ronsard' covers the pillars of the front verandah. If only he were scented, he'd be pretty near perfect.

Butterfly catching in the Side Garden near the front steps.

Callistemon 'Kings Park Special' and other bottlebrushes in the Native Garden. The firepit in the distance.

The English Garden - notice the concentration on Jemimah's face. The Small Citrus Butterfly, Papilio anactus is proving difficult to net.

The cluster flowered Hybrid Musk Rosa 'Buff Beauty' hedge is more than 30 metres long. It is underplanted with blue Agapanthus.

The lovely once flowering Rambler Rose - Rosa 'Albertine'.

The front steps.

Peaceful greens in the Front Garden.

Broccoli, cucumbers, courgettes, mixed lettuce, basil, coriander, tomatoes, Thai basil, rocket, strawberries, silverbeet and chives vie for space in the Kitchen Garden along with the apple trees and pots of herbs. The Children's Garden and Jemimah's cubby in the background.

The Native Garden again.

The White Garden.

And again close-up. Rosa 'Heideschnee' at the back.

This was so pretty I went a picked a bunch of these blooms after seeing this photo. They're sitting at the table as we do maths. Larkspurs, 'Love-in-a-mist', 'Kiss-me-quick' and a David Austrin rose that I can't remember the name of.

More larkspurs in the English Garden.

And again.

' Albertine' again smothering the concrete tank in the Courtyard.

'Buff Beauty' as seen through an arch of Rosa 'Clair Matin'.

This is the post where I shamefacedly show off my garden in its spring glory.

In reality it is not all beautiful. There are many areas where the flood has left its mark - lovely tall trees are dead or dying; the native garden in particular has taken a beating. Natives really do not like getting their toes wet.

This post, though, is not about that.

My garden right now is giving me incredible pleasure each and every day. This post is about the good parts.

I hope these pictures of my Peaceful Garden will give you a bit of pleasure also.

Who's that man?

It's Remembrance Day on Friday.

Spring delights

Is there anything, anything, anything more delightful that a freshly picked herb salad in a blue Japanese bowl for dinner?

I am getting such incredible pleasure from my garden this spring. Despite losing many plants and established trees in the flood, our garden right now is looking just divine. If I must say so myself.

Our herb salad - mixed lettuces, mint, Thai basil, Italian basil, coriander, and Vietnamese mint is all home grown. We're eating it it with a dipping sauce of Nam Pla Prik - salty, sour and spicy - with chillis and limes from the kitchen garden, alongside a main dish of Beef and Asparagus braised with Cassia and Star Anise. I didn't grow the asparagus, but a neighbour did, and that's almost as good.

I can't wait to show you photos of our spring garden. I can't wait to tell you about our wonderful weekend of horseriding. I can't wait to tell you about our holiday to Daylesford. I can't wait to talk to you about the books I've bought. I can't wait to tell you what's gone well and what hasn't in this last term of school. In a couple more days we'll be on holidays and I'm going to tell you about all of this. Can you wait that long? I almost can.

There is one thing better than collecting all these wonderful ingredients from our very own garden, and it's pictured below. A punnet of homegrown deliciously sweet strawberries each and every day. Mmmmmm. There's not much better in life than that.

Except eating them of course.

Minerva and Arachne

By Jemimah

Minerva was the goddess of wisdom and creativity and she was very competitive. Once she was in a competition to win a city, and it was to see who could make something most useful. She made the thing that the gods said was most useful. It was olives. The other god made horses, but they were deemed not as important. So she won the city of Athens because her name in Greek is Athene.

There was another contest too. Minerva was well known for the fact that she was a brilliant weaver. There was also another woman, who was a mortal, named Arachne. She was also a brilliant weaver, and challenged Minerva to have a competition. Minerva changed herself into an old lady and visited Arachne. She gave her some friendly advice and said, “Do not challenge this god. She is powerful and she will beat you. Maybe, if you apologise she will have pity and forgive you." But Arachne got furious and shouted, “Let her come to me. I will have a match against her.” Then Minerva said in her disguise, “She comes,” and dropped her disguise. The girl was shocked but she stood firm. She would not back out.

They started the match and Minerva was sure that she would win. She knew that she was a talented weaver. Arachne, too, knew that she was a good weaver, but was not quite so sure. Minerva wove a tapestry showing how foolish she thought humans were and Arachne made one showing how foolish she though gods were, and she illustrated a few of the faults of the gods. Minerva did likewise, and Minerva was said to be the winner. Arachne was so sad that she died. Minerva took pity on her and said, “Have life.”

Then she turned into a spider. That is why spiders always weave.

Matthew Flinders

A narration by 9 year old Jemimah as part of her Final AO4 examinations. I think she's done really well, despite a few factual errors.

Matthew Flinders

Matthew Flinders’ father was a doctor, and like most fathers he wanted his son to take on the family job of medical work. But Matthew and his brother had different ideas. They both wanted to be seafarers. But their home was so far away that it would be impossible for them to get a proper seafaring education. But Matthew Flinders and his brother didn’t care. They were going to be sailors no matter what their father wanted.

One day his father took him down to a beach. Matthew was entranced. Now he was sure that he wanted to be a sailor. His Uncle John was a seafarer, but he started late, and certainly didn’t have enough time in his life to become a Captain and make him his Cabin Boy, but he could recommend a man who did have enough power to make him Cabin Boy, and he pointed him in the direction of Captain Pasley.

Captain Pasley invited Flinders to come on a short trip on the Bellerophon. Matthew Flinders had always wanted to sail around the world. He had heard about Captain Bligh and how with incredible fortune he had been able to go right around the world. He had also heard about how he had amazingly managed to survive a mutiny when his sailors wanted to go back to Tahiti because they liked the weather so they captured him and put him in a little boat that was about the size of a row boat, gave him five days worth of bread and water and cast him out. Now you would have though that was the end of Captain Bligh. Not true. Captain Bligh managed to reach Timor safely in 45 days. Captain Bligh was renowned for his crazy personality. He was known for whipping a man for not eating or not eating the lime that stopped him getting scurvy, and yet a couple of minutes later he would be talking to his orange trees. Yes, talking. At one point he put the sailors on rations so that the breadfruit trees got enough water.

Matthew Flinders therefore was fascinated by this man and was amazed when he was offered the chance to sail with him. Of course he said,” Yes,” and he was a brilliant help to Captain Bligh. He sailed for Tahiti and was amused to see that Captain Bligh was delighted with the fact that the orange trees he had planted a small while before on his previous voyage were growing brilliantly. Especially one, which he pronounced delightedly, was thriving! Captain Bligh had been elected to pick up some breadfruit trees and take them to the slaves in the sugarcane plantations because the slaves didn’t have enough food. Matthew Flinders survived the rations in order to keep alive the breadfruit trees and came home to Captain Pasley.

He had not known that while he was away, a war had begun with France. So he and Captain Pasley went out on the dangerous seas to fight. In that journey, Captain Pasley got shot in the leg and was in a serious condition for a while, but he survived. Matthew Flinders went home, amazingly with no injuries, and met a pretty girl called Anne. He fell in love with her, but he was offered the chance to go to Australia with Captain Hunter, and since this was his dream, he could not refuse.

While he was on the ship, he made friends with the ship doctor, George Bass. Mr Bass brought on board with him a tiny boat, only seven feet long called the Tom Thumb. He was planning to use it for exploring, but had been denied the privilege by the Captain, who from kindness more than anything said, “You will surely be dashed to pieces in such a small boat.” But he, with the help of Matthew Flinders convinced him to let them both go in the boat and sail around Tasmania. In doing so they proved that Tasmania was not joined to the mainland. Another thing happened on this voyage – a sad thing. Bass got shot in the arm by a bullet and his arm got infected. It got infected to badly that he was dying. He was on the operating table about to have his arm amputated in a wild effort to save him when he died.

Matthew Flinders was very sad about his friend and he missed him greatly. When he returned home he married Anne, and was dismayed to find out he was leaving again for Australia two days after his marriage. He was very sad, but they comforted themselves by saying that they would meet each other soon – in one year. He wrote many letters to her, and made up a pet name – Beloved Friend.

One of the things that nobody knew at that time was whether Australia were one country or two, and Flinders wanted to prove that it was one. So he went to Joseph Banks and asked him if he would be interested, but he convinced him by using his weakness…more plants. Everyone knew that he loved to discover more plants. Matthew Flinders too advantage of this and explained that if Australia were two continents, there might be different plants on each. He immediately agreed, giving him the permission to have his own ship and he arranged a passe-port to be made so that he might be able to go through the different ports and the war ports without being arrested. Matthew Flinders set off and sailed back to Australia. He proved that it was one country, but he got ship wrecked on his way and with his strong will and some men, in a tiny boat, he managed to sail all the way to Sydney. They gave him a boat and he sailed back to rescue them, but while he was gone they had been making a boat because they said to themselves that if he doesn’t make it we will have wasted all this time. So as a backup they made their own boat. They still used his boat though. Then they went around the other bit of Australia and proved that it was one island.

Matthew Flinders was eager to get home to Anne, so he started the long voyage back home. He knew fine well that the bottom of the boat was rotting and the steel cap on the bottom would not help the leaks, so he stopped off in Mauritius, which belonged to France. Despite his passe-port, the Frenchmen put him in gaol because they thought he was a spy coming to steal their plans for war. He was left in gaol for many years. Finally Joseph Banks convinced them to let him go, although for a long time they had been ignoring him. While he was in prison Matthew Flinders got sick. He was an extremely unhealthy man waiting for someone to care. He had gall stones and sometimes it was so bad he sweated with pain.

He finally arrived home and was glad to be home. His wife was sent a letter saying he was home and she came immediately. While she was travelling, she met a man that had worked with her husband. He warned her that he was not the same as he used to be, and it was a good thing that he did. He was frail and sickly. He was only 36, but he looked 50 and he felt 70!

He started to have his life story written since he knew he was dying. The doctors could do nothing to help him but give him medicine to ease his pain. His wife had a baby. She too was called Anne after her mother. But Matthew was so sick he could not enjoy her much.

Anne did not cry when she heard he was going to die – she had cried enough earlier when he had left her many years in ships and fought battles. He was unconscious and dying when the finished book was placed underneath his hand. He would never know that his book had been finished. He died aged only 40.

Matthew Flinders is also well known for discovering a problem with the compass. He discovered that when metal things were close to a compass they made it change directions. He therefore invented a sort of box with a bar across the back and a round lid on the side. It would block off the magnet and in a way become a magnet itself, therefore stopping the compass giving the wrong directions, therefore making it possible to adjust the compass to correctly point north.

The Keeper

Anybody else remember this folksong? It is such fun!!

The lyrics are here.

The chorus is the catchy bit. It'll get stuck in your head, it really will...

Jackie boy! Master! Sing ye well? Very well!
Hey down, ho down, derry derry down, among the leaves do green-o!
To my hey down down! To my ho down down!
Hey down, ho down, derry derry down, among the leaves do green-o!

Do you sing in the car like we do? Well, we sing everywhere really, but also in the car. This song is great for closet car singing.

I forget that some people are not singers like we are. We were travelling on the weekend with one of Jemimah's little friends, The Princess Ing, in the car with us. I think she thought we were quite loopy as we burst into song at every opportunity. We were bellowing out 'She'll be coming around the mountain', only we were changing the lyrics as we went along to suit our own particular situation as we travelled along the mountainous roads of Victoria's High Country. I asked Princess Ing why she wasn't singing, didn't she know the song? "Sort of," she replied, "but our version has different words."

Oh well, we had fun anyhow.

Go Aussie Homeschool Bloggers!

Thank you to the kind person who nominated A Peaceful Day in The Best Homeschool Variety Blog category of the Homeschool Blog Awards. I consider it a real honour that one of you would think me worthy of nomination.

I would love it if any of you care to vote for me. You can do that by clicking on either of the links, or on the button above.

There are some other Aussies there as well. Ruby from Mumma's Place has been nominated in the Best Encourager category; Renelle from Dove's Rest is there in the Favourite Homeschool Mums. Kendra from Aussie Pumpkin Patch is also in the Best Variety category. Can anybody see any others?

Wouldn't it be exciting if an Australian Homeschool Blogger won an award? Oh my!

More Aussies: Eight Acres of Eden has been nominated in the Favourite Homeschool Mum category. Defying Gravity is in Best Nitty Gritty. Thanks, Erin! Rebecca tells me that Sparkling Adventures has been nominated in the Best Methods category. These three are new blogs to me. I'm off to check them out right now.

Go Aussies, Go!!

What have I done?

I am beginning to think I may have made a terrible mistake.

Tomorrow we are going here. To do this.

Two long days on horseback. Gulp.

If you're missing us this weekend, imagine us here. Doing this.



Well, actually, we won't really be going down Kate Cameron's Peak. We will be visiting it though. I'll take pictures.

On Sunday night I suspect I will be eating my dinner off the mantel piece. That's if I live that long.

Oh my.