Trying to find a book at the library that is a book: not an e-book, not an audio book online to stream into my computer or phone = UGH. So does this mean I am to buy all those books that I want to read or even look at to see if I want to read because the library is not about reading books but about technology? Good article on G. K. Chesterton here. I am very sure he has the answer to this. Very sure. Good day today with 12 middle school girls. We are winding up Emily Dickinson. We read 3 poems for Spring, Summer, and Fall. Each girl wrote their own poem akin to E.D.'s style or in another form. We didn't have time to read them out loud but they begged to after lunch in a circle as the Mom's waited on them. A Delectable Education. Listen to A Delectable Education podcasts .
When I love my God there is a light, voice, odor, food, embrace of my innerness, where my soul is floodlit by light which space cannot contain, where there is sound that time cannot seize, where there is perfume which no breeze disperses, where there is a taste for food no amount of eating can lessen, where there is a bond of union that no satiety can part. That’s what I love when I love my God. (St. Augustine)
Every other Friday, I teach a Girls Morning Class. The girls are delightful. We cover Plutarch, folk songs, poetry, The Taming of the Shrew and always a short dictation. The girls range from 10-14. So...... this morning about 11:00 , there was a " IT'S SNOWING!!!" We became like those animals staring at the beauty. Today I had planned for Emily Dickinson's poem:
It sifts from Leaden Sieves -
It powders all the Wood.
It fills with Alabaster Wool
The Wrinkles of the Road - There is was: the snow in Emily's poem. One girl had recited this poem right at the beginning of class when it was just plain cold outside. They begged to go out and declared me to be the best teacher in the whole world. They ran outside to catch snow on their tongues until the cold sent them back in . We read Emily...and each found their favorite verbs about snow: sifts powders
It reaches to the Fence -
It wraps it Rail by Rail
Till it is lost in Fleeces -
It deals Celestial Vail
It Ruffles Wrists of Posts
As Ankles of a Queen -
Then stills it’s Artisans - like Ghosts -
Denying they have been -
We watched the snow do all those verbs. Sifting like flour from God's sky. The girls ran outside again and the snow was enough to make tiny snowmen. Then in for Shakespeare: Act. 5, Scene 1 of The Taming of the Shrew. The merchant is looking out the window. Wow. We had been doing that for the past hour. Sometimes I have to just know that God is with us/me when after a weary week. He shows His glory in making the lessons fit together in ways I could not have planned. We stood in awe and wonder. Pure delight at the snow...
- too many meetings that don't accomplish alot - Valentine's: some done, some not done - Sweet note with a Starbuck's card in it - Seeing this movie on Thursday. Read about Lilias Trotter: The Passion of the Impossible over a decade ago, even writing the author to get a copy or something. Letter in the book...
- bright spot: daughter skated free tonight right near Freedom Towers. We are all jealous. Her Chinese roommate made dinner to celebrate Chinese New Year's.
My cousin lives in one of those buildings across the Hudson River in New Jersey
Looking for inspiration for reorganizing. It doesn't come easy to me. I saw a wonderful Brit I follow ( Jessica Chorley) just put one of those tins on the table for her journal workshop. It was full of scraps. I had NOT thought of that. Filling one now. From a Canadian blogger who I read passed away
Jennifer Trafton Peterson wife of Pete Peterson who is brother of Andrew Peterson so that make her the sister-in-law of Andrew and she writes and does writing classes online and in Nashville for young students. She is also an artist. Her brother is an actor and on staff at Redeemer PCA in NYC. So , Read here.
Those eloquent Welsh folks have a word for something we vagabond Americans can’t seem to name: hiraeth. It means something like homesickness for a home you cannot return to, or even a home that never existed at all; an intense longing for one’s motherland; a grief-tinged nostalgia for the lost places in the world where one’s heart once fit.
It is quite something from homeschooling to have a son who is 25 ask if I have Meditations by Marcus Aurelius, Roman Emperor. I don't. I did send him the cheap paper back for 1.00 via that big online store we all use.
I did find a way to write Gary Schmidt. Now to carve in time to make an " Orbiting Jupiter" card for him. I was given this title for Book of Centuries entries and even for Ancient History. It is " curated by Richard Wilkerson and Jo Nelson." I was tickled. It is a museum series.
Plus do look for Dorothy Mills books on Ancients. She wrote a series of books on the Ancients. So good. Very.