Making lists

Charlotte Mason lists can be about anything you see in nature. Whilst visiting the Armitt last year, I saw lists of rocks, fungi and insects as well as the ubiquitous birds and flower lists that were kept by all students.

During our current Indonesian holiday, I've been keeping a list of the wonderful tropic fruit we've seen and tasted. Oh my, it's been a yummy research project. The P.N.E.U. student lists always included the English and Latin names of the species, but for my list, I've chosen instead to include the English and Bahasa Indonesia names. I can always add the Latin names when I'm back home if I'm keen.

Keeping lists is a bit addictive. Miss Mason does nothing by chance, and I suspect that this is one reason why she advocated such pastimes. Keeping lists makes you more observant. Can I add another fruit to my list today? Another bird? Another wildflower? Can I identify what I see? Can I buy a field guide...or find a clever person to help?

Somebody on Facebook recently said that a timeline kept badly is better than a great one never kept at all. I love that sentiment, and I think it applies to so many of Charlotte's methods. If we always wait to do things perfectly, if we are always searching for the perfect notebook, or putting something off until our child is the right age or can draw better or has neater handwriting, we run the risk of never starting, and missing the benefits completely.

Keeping lists is terrific fun. I encourage to to pick a subject and start your list today. Come back and tell me if you do.

 

 

Who lives in your tree?

It is only recently that I heard about observing one tree during the course of a full day to learn who and what called its branches home. I wonder if you've done it? It is a delightful way to spend a day.

My family and I are currently spending a relaxing couple of weeks in Indonesia, and the past few days have found me happily ensconced on my recliner by the pool, cold water, sunscreen, sunglasses and a delicious pile of books on a table by my side. At the end of my garden is a tall coconut palm. If you look at the photo above, you'll see my view. It's a hard life, isn't it?

My tree is home to such a myriad of creatures - butterflies, brown, yellow, black and white. Without a field guide I can't even begin to identify them, but there are just so many, and to see them gives me great pleasure. Kupu kupu, they're called in Bahasa Indonesia -such a pretty name, I always think.

Early in the morning a shy long-tailed macaque scampers warily up the trunk to hide in my tree's canopy, whilst later as the sun rises higher, a family of delightful squirrels gambol together, their tails flat along the fronds behind them, not held high like their European cousins do, but behaving in the same cheeky fashion. Maybe it's because we don't have squirrels at home in Australia that I always derive such pleasure from their friendly, amusing antics, but I always delight in seeing them, wherever I see them in the world.

Tiny house geckos, called ciacak locally because of their noisy scolding call, and sun skinks, small and large, defy gravity, running straight up my palm tree's vertical trunk to hide. I understand how geckos grip vertical surfaces, but how does the sleekly plump skink manage this remarkable feat? With ease, it seems. It is said here that if a gecko calls while you're speaking, you're telling the truth.

Birds call my palm tree home as well - sweet pied fantails - our 'rusty-wheel' wake-up call, cheeky yellow-vented bulbuls, spotted doves, Pacific swallows, scaly-breasted munias with their slow, regular cheep cheep cheep, and their white-headed munia cousins. Swiftlets with their comically ungainly flight never land, but soar overhead. Whenever my feathered friends feel warm, they swoop down from their refuge to cool themselves in our pool, regarding it as their own giant birdbath, as I sit quietly by, hardly daring to breathe for fear of frightening them away.

I'm grateful to Charlotte Mason for gifting me, later in life, this gift of observation. Our children, learning from their early years have this strength naturally, but for me it was learned, and so I appreciate it all the more. Teaching our children to 'fully see' truly is a gift. Careful, intentional observation - it's a life long skill with its own rewards.

By degrees the children will learn discriminatingly every feature of the landscapes with which they are familiar; and think what a delightful possession for old age and middle life is a series of pictures imaged, feature by feature, in the sunny glow of the child's mind! The miserable thing about the childish recollections of most persons is that they are blurred, distorted, incomplete, no more pleasant to look upon than a fractured cup or a torn garment; and the reason is, not that the old scenes are forgotten, but that they were never fully seen. At the time, there was no more than a hazy impression that such and such objects were present, and naturally, after a lapse of years those features can rarely be recalled of which the child was not cognisant when he saw them before him.

Charlotte Mason Home Education p47-8

Observing a tree in Bali has been a joyful experience, but you don't need to be in Indonesia to do this study. Pick a day, pick a tree, pack a picnic and just observe. What can you see? Do birds visit your tree at different times of the day? Is it a refuge for lizards or mammals of some kind, or can you just see insects? Do birds visit? Or ants? Is there moss growing? Or ferns? When I observe trees in my garden at home, I don't see monkeys or squirrels, but I do see birds. I see that the magpie sings there early in the morning; the musk parrots visit in the warmth of the sun; the corollas and cockatoos rest there on their way home to roost on the riverbank at sunset.

What do you see when you observe your tree? Go and look, and then be sure to come back and tell me about it. Right now, I'm off for a swim.

 

My delicious secret

Yes, I'm in America. Surprise! LA International Airport, to be precise, awaiting my connecting flight to Detroit in three hours, give or take. From Detroit, I'm headed across the Canadian border to the little town of Kingsville, Ontario, and the second Canadian Charlotte Mason conference, L'Harmas, which is on this weekend.
I can't wait to see Leslie and Anne and Jen and Sandy and Megan and Tammy and Kathy and...well everyone, and I especially can't wait to see their faces when they see me.
Keeping secrets in this age of Facebook and instant connectivity has been really hard, and so I've had to tell nobody that I'm coming. Even so, the word seems to have leaked a little, and every time I've logged onto social media this past week I've expected to be outed by someone or other. Wouldn't it be painful if they spoilt the surprise at this late stage!
For obvious reasons, I won't be pressing the Publish button until Sunday. I will certainly post some pics, though, when I can.
Surprises are such very good fun, aren't they? Heh heh heh.
Sunday:There is a photo of me on Mama Squirrel's blog if you want to see us together!

Jamie Douglas

Have you heard about Jamie Douglas?

 

Jamie Douglas

by K A Peters

'Twas in the days when Claverhouse was scouring moor and glen,
To shake with fire and bloody sword the faith of Scottish men,
They had made a covenant with the Lord, firm in their faith to bide,
Nor break with Him their plighted word whatever might betide.
The sun was nearly setting, when o'er the heather wild,
And up a narrow mountain-path alone there walked a child.
He was a bonnie, blithesome lad, lithe and strong of limb,
A father's pride and a mother's love were fast bound up in him.

His bright blue eyes glanced fearless round, his step was firm and light.
What was it underneath his plaid his little hands clasped tight?
'Twas the bannocks which that morning his mother had made with care
From out her scanty store of meal, and now, with many a prayer,
Had sent by Jamie, her ain boy, a trusty lad and brave,
To good old Pastor Tammas Roy, now hiding in yon cave;
For whom the bloody Claverhouse had hunted long in vain,
And swore he would not leave that glen, till old Tam Roy was slain.

So Jamie Douglas went his way with heart that knew no fear.
He turned the great curve in the rock nor dreamed that death was near,
But lurking there were Clavers' men, who laughed aloud with glee.
He turned to flee, but all in vain, they drag him back a pace
To where their cruel leader stands, and set them face to face.
The cakes concealed beneath the plaid soon tell the story plain.
" 'Tis old Tam Roy these cakes are for!" exclaimed the angry man.
Boy, guide me to his hiding-place, and I will let you go."
But Jamie shook his yellow curls, and stoutly answered, "No."

"I'll drop you down the mountain cliffs, and there among the stones,
The old gaunt wolf and carrion crow shall battle for your bones; "
And in his brawny strong right hand he lifted up the child,
And held him o'er a clefted rock, a chasm deep and wild
So deep it was, the trees below like willow wands did seem.
The poor boy looked in frightened maze, it seemed some horrid dream.
He looked up to the sky above, and then at the men close by:
Had they no little ones at home, and could they let him die?

But no one spoke, and no one moved, or lifted hand to save
From such a fearful, awful death, the little lad so brave.
"It's waefu' deep," he shuddering cried, "but, oh !.I canna tell:
Sae drap me doon there if ye will, it's nae sae deep as hell."
A childish scream - a faint, dull sound - oh, Jamie Douglas true!
Long, long within that lonely cave shall Tam Roy wait for you;
And long for your welcome coming waits the mother on the moor,
And watches and cries, " Come, Jamie, lad," through the half-open door.

No more adown the rocky, path you come with fearless tread,
Or on the moor and mountains take the good man's daily bread ;
But up in heaven the shining ones a wondrous story tell,
Of a child snatched up from a rocky gulf that's nae sae deep as hell.
And there before the great white throne, forever blessed and glad,
His mother dear and Auld Tam Roy shall meet their bonnie lad.

 

Cups

Claire was asking what the Cup Song is.  It's a clapping game, Claire, and it goes like this:



It comes from a movie called Pitch Perfect:



I know nothing about the movie, so I can't recommend it, but I think that audition scene is pretty cool.

Here's the musical version:



It was Jemimah's aim to teach the game to all the kids that we visited on our trip to America. She thought that the game would help them to remember her. Having never listened to the song, I don't think she realised quite how appropriate the lyrics were:

When I’m gone
When I’m gone
You’re gonna miss me when I’m gone
You’re gonna miss me by my hair
You’re gonna miss me everywhere, oh
You’re gonna miss me when I’m gone

So now you know.

Here's a not-very-good-photo of her playing the game with some new friends:

Highlights of SoCal

Traditionally when we travel we like to do a blog post listing our favourite parts of each stop on our itinerary. Sometimes we get lazy and stop halfway through the journey, but we'll see how we go!

Here, then, are our highlights from Southern California:

Jemimah:

• Powell's Sweet Shoppe
• Swimming at the pool with Mr Goegan and the kids
• Feeling like part of the family
• Playing in the sand at Laguna Beach
• Eating hamburgers at Ruby's Diner

Jeanne:

• Observing that amazing marine worm at Laguna Beach
• Spending time with Naomi's nature group
• Eating Fish Tacos at Baja Fresh
• Seeing the Impressionists at The Getty
• Powell's Sweet Shoppe

Okay, we have Powell's twice. Is there a problem with that?