Monday Ponderings {November 26th}

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“Nobody can know the full consequences of their actions and history is full of small acts that changed the world in surprising ways.” ~Rebecca Solnit

{Originally, I saw this on Myth & Moor blog and I’m thinking on it this week. It can be applied to so many areas of our lives. The antithesis of the whole idea of “go big, or go home.” I love the quiet, humility of this and how we all have an opportunity to love on others without having it to be something seen by the public eye. Yes, it’s harder and usually unappreciated, but that’s alright. It still matters. Remembering the beginning of the verse, Zechariah 4:10, not to despise the day of small things.}

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Snowy {One Hundred Bits of Gratitude by Thanksgiving} #6

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{a gorgeous restored church on Prince Edward Island, Canada}

 

51. lamp-lit dinner of buttery pancakes shared with two children who were at home with me last night. We listened to soft music as the flame flickered. So peaceful!

52. the sound of potatoes being grated. Juicy and a pleasant scraping. Hash browns for my husband! Opening deer hunting and an empty fridge had me scrambling to find some things for hungry bellies. The hunters seem to appreciate the few eggs, random turkey sausage (found deep in freezer),  and hastily-made hash browns.

53. the sizzle of oil and smell of crispy potato.

54. the soft, top outline of snow on some forgotten laundry on line.

55. slowly attempting to paint the constellation Orion in my nature journal. It looks primitive, but I’m glad to capture the moments I’ve spent gazing at this imposing fellow in the sky.

56. fascinating essay here and quotes here on Myth & Moor, probably one of my favorite blogs. I suspect that the author and I are kindred spirits, hopefully, we could be friends even though we may differ in many of our core beliefs.

57.  reading The Little Engine That Could over and over to my littlest as he just discovered it on our library shelf. I never realized until now that it’s sort of a retelling of the Good Samaritan.

58. Black-Capped Chickadees and a Male Cardinal at my feeders! We don’t have a lot of trees and I’ve really missed the variety of birds that we had at our former home.

59. pretty Christmas wrapping paper that I ordered. I usually wrap all my gifts in one print, the monochromatic scheme looks so pretty under the tree and frankly, it’s just easier.

60. I got a few things scribbled last night in my journal. Some writing actually down in ink and not floating around in my stuffed, spilling-over brain! I’ve really struggled with making the time, because it feels like I need so much mental space, of which I have zero right now. I’m finding I’m going to have to fit it in the margins of life or it won’t happen at all. How wonderful it is to just get down one page of words captured for just a little while.

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Sick Days {One Hundred Bits of Gratitude by Thanksgiving} #5

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We’ve been under a cold and upper respiratory fog that just will not go away. Thankfully, we seem to be slowly coming out the other side of the tunnel and I know there are things I was grateful for even in the midst of hard daily life circumstances.

41. extra soft Kleenex, big three pack, that my husband picked up for us

42. daughter who served me hot tea on a tray with a card and light candle, so cheerful and an unexpected blessing

43. fluffy duvet covers to snuggle under

44. the brilliant star-filled sky out of our big window in the upstairs hall. I’ve been up a lot with children, my own coughing, and I kept noticing it as I passed by.

45. I made a simple meal of meatballs and mash potatoes and my family was in raptures. Hallelujah for happy stomachs!

46. thick, soft socks

47. children who helped out with cooking while I was really sick

48. glorious orange sunrise this morning, shining through a purple and pale blue haze, so beautiful

49. sunlight has been rare lately, so when it visits, the shafts throughout the house are lifegiving

50. sharing the reading of our books together, cuddling under quilts, listening to music and watching Victorian Farm episode on Youtube. Flexibility to keep going when sick at a comfortable speed.

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First Snow {One Hundred Bits of Gratitude by Thanksgiving} #4

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We awoke to a thick, delicious, white frosting spread across the land. We are delighted and are celebrating by baking something to go with our hot drinks and books today.

31. my daughter’s little whispy bits of hair blowing in the warm, wood-pellet stove air

32. banana and walnut go together so very well, do they not?

33. a lovely time with four mothers, a passel of children, books, beauty, and delightful conversations

34. impromptu date with my middle two, listening to their dreams, ideas, and having lots of laughs together

35. first holiday party of the season tomorrow, a chance to listen and encourage, and wash a few dishes 😉

36. little hands peeling mandarins, fresh, sweet citrus-y smell

37. wood smoke curling out of all the Amish schools, yards full of little carts, recesses of little, black-clad children running around. Crowds of them walking along the roadside, brightly colored lunch coolers banging against their legs

38. anticipating the 200 bulbs the little children and I planted last month. Spring will be glorious thanks to those little gems tucked away

39. tea with honey. I’m a coffee person, but in autumn and winter, “lashings of tea” is the way to go!

40. The only Christmas-y thing I’ve began early is Bing Crosby. Swoon, so cheerful and comforting

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Forever – is composed of Nows {One Hundred Bits of Gratitude by Thanksgiving} #3

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by Emily Dickinson
Forever – is composed of Nows –
‘Tis not a different time –
Except for Infiniteness –
And Latitude of Home –
From this – experienced Here –
Remove the Dates – to These –
Let Months dissolve in further Months –
And Years – exhale in Years –
Without Debate – or Pause –
Or Celebrated Days –
No different Our Years would be
From Anno Dominies –
{Wow. Thinking on this poem today. Isn’t it lovely and full of food for thought?}
21. a little boy that says “blue” for glue. “Can you blue this for me?” Be still my heart.
22.  sound of rain on the windshield.
23.  simple dates over spicy sandwiches, no place to be, just laughing and catching up.
24.  that the voting ads are going to now stop filling up our mailbox. Ha. Today is election day in the US.
25.  enjoying listening to Shakespeare’s Henry V with my older children, the film adaptation with Kenneth Branaugh has some inspiring scenes. We’ve had some fantastic discussions, laughs, and love the, “Once more until the breach dear friends, once more” speech.
26.  my daughter’s hamster face sticking out of our wooden play castle!
27.  four, fluffy, new deep purple bath towels.
28. listening and dancing to different soundtracks.
29. reading Green Eggs and Ham for the first time again.
30. my biggest boy sitting in front of fire, sketching a trebuchet.
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Monday Ponderings {November 5th}

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If any strain of my “broken music” make a child’s eyes flash, or his mother’s grow for a moment dim, my labour will not have been in vain. 

~ George MacDonald, “The Fantastic Imagination”

{This quote came to my attention via the lovely Instagram account _bryana_joy and I found it very intriguing. I searched around for it online and found the complete essay. I highly recommend it for writers, artists, any creatives, but also for mothers as it gives an interesting perspective of childlike wonder and an inside-out view of children. Just asking ourselves the question of what is already inherently inside our child (who is made in the image of God), just waiting, faithfully sowing, and spreading beauty that kindles that spark of wonder. We are not molding them from the outside-in and that is such a huge relief. This essay is not a super easy read, and I’m still reflecting on it, and think it’s worth reading.}

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Welcome, November ~ {One Hundred Bits of Gratitude by Thanksgiving} #1

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Hello, welcome to my second annual gratitude list here at Hearth Ridge Reflections. I hope to make a list, culminating at the American celebration of Thanksgiving, of things that I am noticing and grateful about in my life. Please join me on your own blog or jot it down in your journal, I find it such an amazing practice of reordering ones focus. I find this time of year, no matter how hard I try, becomes a haze of busyness and materialism. This little project helps me to take a moment away from all of that.  I miss it around here, yet I’ve been given a lovely, wild bunch of children whom I’ve chosen to home educate and that takes precedence. How are you all, dear friends? I hope this post finds you well. Yes, I do call you friends, even though most of us have never met. I appreciate you reading here, sharing your thoughts, and I pray that you walk away with a bit more hope and delight in your back pocket then when you arrived. Here is what I’m thankful for today:

  1. Searching the shelves for our Thanksgiving books and refilling our book basket.
  2. The delight on my daughter’s face when she realized she got a letter in the post.
  3. The smell of peppermint tea.
  4. Stepping out onto our deck, escaping a boiling hot kitchen, into a cool, dark, and star-drenched sky. I grabbed our constellation chart and spent a few lovely moments.
  5. Planning a pineapple-glazed ham for our first holiday gathering coming up, anticipating family enjoying it.
  6. The rotation of children and myself in rocker set near wood pellet stove. Little toes and fingers warmed. Conversation around the warmth. Books read, snuggles.
  7. Little heads stuffed into warm, colorful hats.
  8. That autumn smell. A soupy mixture of wood smoke, earth, rotting, wet leaves, and a closing down of the year.
  9. Unexpected inspiration in a magazine about how important the intangible moments are during the holidays, beautiful, wise, and a blessing.
  10. Precious sleep, when I’ve been not sleeping well.

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Monday Ponderings {October 22nd}

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“…beauty and grace are performed whether or not we will or sense them. The least we can do is try to be there.”

-Annie Dillard, Pilgrim at Tinker Creek

{Thinking on this as we begin another week of learning together. Just the conscious practice of slowing down and noticing, helps carry us through the harried pace of most of our modern lives. Noticing the steam rising from the big pot of chili, the way the butter bubbles in the apple crisp, and the wind whips through the tarps outdoors. Just trying to “be there” for all those little bits of beauty and grace.}

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Autumn Equinox on Saturday and other ramblings…

Rain is falling, concentric splatters on the puddles in my driveway. My mind is all-a-swirl as we are finishing up our second week of home education here at Hearth Ridge Farm. Yesterday afternoon, I snuggled down and read the book The Wolves of Willoughby Chase by Joan Aiken, and was thoroughly delighted. Just what I needed at the moment. An escape to England, mysterious wolves, big, beautiful houses with hidden passageways, and endearing children to cheer along the way. The beauty of story. It made me think about the piles of scribbles I have laying all about my house, the discarded ideas, the dusty laptop. The brilliant purple morning glories are dripping wet, a fog and wetness hanging around these last few days. I can’t resist admiring the way their beauty and green tendrils sneak in and out, through and under, a lovely vein of happiness through the outside of my deck. How story and beauty keep us moving forward, their beauty splashing against the gray of dishes, discouragement, and ugly despair of our world. The poem, The Chairs That No One Sits In, a gentle, almost silent-sort-of plea for that elusive something that we often forget, that we drown by the incessant Sirens of our day. The cooling down the past couple of days, the the red tinges peeping out, my daughter exclaiming with delight over the leaves “following” our vehicle, the tinkling, crunching noise and movement swirling up around us, so very beautiful. Autumn is our guest arriving Saturday, and I’m warming up to its cool promise of sweaters and more afternoon teas. I was delighted as I drove through the changing countryside on Tuesday, listening to two kindred-spirit creatives talk on mystery, writing, and just general lovely bookishness. I notice another flower friend, my poor geranium is still hanging on, by the way, a mystery and delight to me, because it is long overdue for a re-potting and often gets neglected. Again, that splash of something that cuts through the piles and dust and smells of life. Reality doesn’t change, but I can make one step forward, parting the waters, one more song to carry me on my way, one more beautiful image, word, and thought that brings me and those around me hope.

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Monday Ponderings {September 17th}

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Will not the End explain

The crossed endeavor, earnest purpose foiled,

The strange bewilderment of good work spoiled,

The clinging weariness, the inward strain;

Will not the End explain?

 

Meanwhile He comforteth

Them that are losing patience; ’tis His way.

But none can write the words they hear Him say,

For men to read; only they know He saith

Kind words, and comforteth.

 

Not that He doth explain

The mystery that baffleth; but a sense

Husheth the quiet heart, that far, far hence

Lieth a field set thick with golden grain,

Wetted in seedling days by many a rain;

The End – it will explain.

 

~Amy Carmichael, Mountain Breezes, p. 298

{Whoa. I’m holding onto this beautiful thought this week. I hope it encourages you also!  Happy Monday!}

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Monday Ponderings {September 10th}

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“…if the business of teaching be to furnish the child with ideas, any teaching which does not leave him possessed of a new mental image has by so far, missed its mark.”

“An idea is more than an image or a picture; it is, so to speak, a spiritual germ endowed with vital force – with power, that is, to grow, and to produce after its kind.”

“…our only means of true intimacy with a child is the power of recovering our own childhood – a power which we are apt to let slip as of no vital importance.”

“It is possible to supplement Nature so skilfully that we run some risk of supplanting her, depriving her of space and time to do her own work in her own way.”

“…there is no habit of power so useful to man or woman as that of personal initiative.”

“The educational error of our day is that we believe too much in mediators. Now, Nature is her own mediator, undertakes, herself, to find work for eyes and ears, taste and touch; she will prick the brain with problems and the heart with feelings; and the part of the mother or teacher in the early years (indeed, all through life) is to sow opportunities, and then to keep in the background, ready with a guiding or restraining hand only when these are badly wanted.”

p.171-193

(A few gems from Miss Charlotte Mason’s first Volume, Home Education, which I’m thinking on this week. Anything that jumps out to you? Bold emphasis is mine.)

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