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.}

~

Monday Ponderings {October 15th}

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Those who sow in tears shall reap with joyful shouting, He who goes to and fro weeping, carrying his bag of seed, Shall indeed come again with a shout of joy, bringing his sheaves with him.

Psalm 126:5-6, NASB

 

{Happy Monday! Just keep sowing, sowing, sowing. Your labor is not in vain in the Lord. Our hard life of laboring here on earth may not seem to have a tangible harvest, but we can trust by faith, that it will sprout beauty untold.  We had the first dusting of snow last night here at Hearth Ridge Farm and it’s beautiful!}

September Reads

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I was able to finish up quite a few things on my stack this past month, as well as read a few light reads. I tend to grab those types of things when our school year is going, because I’m reading so many rich things with my children. How was your September reading month?

Mansfield Park by Jane Austen (*****) – I reread this for my Back to Classic Books, Reread a favorite classic catagory.  This is my first reread of this book in many years. I loved it much more than I remembered liking it before! Being able to hear and read the thoughts and feelings of Fanny was enlightening and so gratifying. The Crawfords made my skin crawl ;), and I found myself thinking about Mrs. Norris, the extreme busy-body and cruel aunt a lot also. I also felt myself grow in compassion for Sir Thomas due to his lump of a wife, Lady Bertram, who cared more for her pug than any person. Her extreme self-centeredness irritated me so much for some reason. The depth of the characters, beauty, and honesty about human nature was refreshing and delightful. I felt like banging Edmund on the head more than once for his blindness about Miss Crawford, but then again, I knew what a stupor one can be in when infatuated by an idea of someone.

The Rosemary Tree by Elizabeth Goudge (*****) – A new Goudge for me and it was just lovely. This story centers around three interconnected groups of people, a vicar and his wife and their troubled relationship, their children and the terrible private school they attend, and the vicar’s Aunt struggling to survive at the big, decrepit family mansion. The characters were deep and well-drawn. The redemption and love woven throughout this story was fantastic. The lovely nature, animals, and Goudge’s treatment of children were just lovely. Another favorite Goudge for me!

The Stillmeadow Album by Gladys Taber (****) – A friend surprised me with this in the post! This was like having Gladys give you a tour of her beloved farm, Stillmeadow. I really enjoyed this, even though the photos were in black & white.

My Own Cape Cod by Gladys Taber (****) – Later in life, Gladys moved to Stillcove, her little cottage in Cape Cod. I found the same charm in sharing a bit of her daily life. I did find myself missing Stillmeadow, though, so this wasn’t my favorite. I think Jill’s (her close friend) death and her older age made this have a bit of a melancholy tone to it as well.

A Change and A Parting: My Story of Amana by Barbara Selzar Yambura (****) – I picked this up at a yard sale this summer for .50 cents. It wasn’t a fast page turner. It was the memoir of a woman growing up in the original Amana colonies. I found it very interesting to learn more about their beliefs and how they lived in a complete communal society. The harshness and absolute rules were astounding to me. The fear surrounding this sort of religious life was intense.

Book Girl: A Journey Through the Treasures and Transforming Power of a Reading Life by Sarah Clarkson (****) – I loved Clarkson’s emphasis on women and the pure treasure reading is for our emotional, physical, and mental well-being. I think what I most took away from this book was more for me as a mother. That the little seeds we are sowing everyday of beauty and good literature are crucial. Even if we don’t see the harvest or we don’t see anything “measurable” EVER, we still keep faithfully sowing into our children and those around us by faith. If you are a bibliophile, the book lists and sentiments may be a bit of a review for you (also there are A LOT of heavy theological books recommended), but keep reading, because there are little gems interspersed throughout that will encourage you and spur you deeper into your shelves, reading community, and sharing all the wonder and beauty found in books.

The Heaven Tree Trilogy by Edith Pargeter (****) – I found the recommendation for this in the above Book Girl! This is a massive three book story about 12th century England and Wales. Tensions are high at the Welsh border and this follows the life of a master carver, his intrigues, loyalties, and love. I love the depth of character and seeing the good and bad sides of both the protagonist and antagonist. They are not one dimensional! This is a beautiful story, a page turner, and I really enjoyed it. This would be a perfect winter read!

The Rain in Portugal by Billy Collins (****) – another collection of poems by this humorous American poet. I enjoyed it!

Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone by J.K. Rowling (****) – I thought it was a time for a reread of these. I enjoyed this one more this second time around. Without giving too much away, I especially loved the ending when Harry is able to crack Dumbledore’s riddle with the mirror, showing his pure heart and motives.

The Wolves of Willoughby Chase by Joan Aiken (*****) – I loved this imaginative story of English children in a beautiful mansion, scary wolf-filled countryside, and nasty woman who sends the girls to an orphanage. I read this one afternoon after school was done and it was just a perfect escape. I saw there are more in the series and I hope to read those as well.

Greenwitch and The Grey King by Susan Cooper (****) – These are books 3 and 4 in The Dark is Rising Series, which I’ve been rereading. This is an intense, but wonderful series based on English and Welsh legends, and I really enjoy it. Do you notice a pattern here this month? I tend to gravitate toward children’s literature when I need a mental break. There are so many wonderful children’s classics out there and so little time.

The Ringmaster’s Wife by Kristy Cambron (***) – This is the second book I’ve read by this author and over all, I’ve enjoyed her. I was intrigued by the Ringling circus plot and English connection. Overall, a bit of a predictable story.

A Sensible Arrangement by Tracie Peterson – I grabbed this off my local library shelf and it was disappointing to me. I knew what I was getting though ;), but was desperate for a light read. While the story was predictable, the stilted-seeming conversation really bugged me the most. I know I probably seem SO snobbish and I hate to criticize writers, but I have to be honest! I’m pretty sure that Peterson has many fans, but I just need to try to stay away from most inspirational romance from now on.

The Holy Bible (*****) – second half of Psalms, Acts

~

 

 

 

Retreat

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The pine smell enveloped me, breathing deep, I soaked in the flickering sunlight. It dappled on green, falling and shifting down. My face lifted, eyes closed for just a moment. I was home in this place away from home. The trees shifting and waving, welcoming ripples, the wind weaving me into this tapestry of green, with a hint of autumn color beginning. My husband kindly covering the home front, so that I could take time to retreat. I was struck by the quiet solitude, yet not a loneliness. The crunch of leaves, the occasional bird, and that glorious wind were the background music for my visit. I slowly strolled through the stone work, little bridges, and other work of the Franciscan monks that had lived here beginning almost a century earlier.  The Stations of the Cross intrigued me. I didn’t have the prayers with me, yet I stepped up to each one, and something was hovering at the edges of my mind. I studied the rough, yet careful stone structures with their wooden crosses on top. Inside were the images of Jesus being condemned by Pilate, Jesus accepting his cross, and seeing Mary. I was interested in the three falls of Jesus, wondering. The people mentioned. Simon, Veronica, and the women of Jerusalem. Jesus dying and buried. This Via Crucis was complete and as I looked back,  my vague impressions struck me. First, I wondered and felt a longing for the depiction of the Resurrection and the hope I find in that part of my faith. I found myself shocked at the violence played out in the midst of this wooded sanctuary. The blood, pain, and rejection He encountered stood out harshly against the very calm creation surrounding me. He more than anyone understands. Understands me as a human, is with me through life, and whatever sorrows I’m treading through, He will lead be beside still waters, He will restore my soul. Violence and pain are real, but I rest in His beauty and love. I thought of this retreat weekend and all the beautiful women that I’d been visiting with, our hopes, dreams, and yes, pain, some with deeply intense pain of things they are carrying. A rustle of wind shifted the leaves and light. All of us here were coming to grow and rest a bit, taking a break from the daily cares of cooking, answering questions, and being “on” for others. Yet, I found myself seeing how much of those things echo Jesus’ very posture towards me. The very “job” if you will, that I find myself in, one of mothering and caring, one of practicing compassion, was what I was seeing dimly reflected in these ancient walls, in these unique women, and whispering through the trees and words from our discussions. One last glimpse back, as I exit these woods, gratitude for the green, the light, and for a little bit more understanding than before. The small things of life are truly the biggest.

~

Monday Ponderings {October 1st}

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Humility

How deep a mystery, my Lord, Thou shew’st!

Though I do beat my breast and humble me

And of most servile tasks do make my boast,

Yet have I not attained humility!

 

Then, more I shame me, think upon my sins,

Cry, “Lord, I am not fit to touch Thy feet!” –

My self-abasing no advancement wins,

The more I loathe me, more am I unmeet!

 

“Perceiv’st though not, my child, what thing I ask –

Thy lowly, simple grace that children own;

Thy pride imposeth every heavy task; –

Humility is one as Christ is one:

 

Fret not thyself, but set thine heart on Me, –

And thou goest garbed in My Humility.”

 

-Charlotte Mason, Saviour of the World, Volume IV, Book IV, Poem LXII (Matthew 18:4) [page 170] (this was given to us in a talk given by Nancy Kelly)

Additionally, it tied beautifully into this quote which I got from my sister:

“Trained faith is a triumphant gladness in having nothing but God – no rest, no foothold – nothing but Himself – A triumphant gladness in swinging out into that abyss, rejoicing in every fresh emergency that is going to prove Him true – The Lord Alone – that is trained faith.” ~ Lilias Trotter (Diary, 9 September 1902)

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{This is one of the most beautiful things that has really stuck out to me in the past couple of weeks. I’ve been thinking on it a lot. I’ve been MIA around here due to home educating my children, hope to pop in more soon, as I get the beginning school year wrinkles semi-ironed out. Hopefully, I will be back this week sometime to share my books from September and a little bit more from my retreat I took at the end of September. I have some other ideas always swirling around in my brain.  How are you all doing?  Let me be the first to wish you a very Happy October! Our leaves are starting to change here and it is such a beautiful gift.}

~

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.

~

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!}

~

Late Summer Sentiments, served with-a-side-of-Lucy

 

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{Glorious sunset in our back meadow}

The beautiful dew-drenched mornings are a bit chilly now – my coffee steam rising warm, wiggling into the cool air.  The stillness in the air and the hint of wood smoke drifting from our Amish neighbors whispers autumn. However, today reached the 80’s so I’m still holding onto summer. Summer is the L.M. Montgomery part of the year for me. Do you do that? Explain and figure out life through the books you’ve read and characters your favorite, dear authors have given you? I do. The robust, deeply rich, fragrant smells and luscious greens and deep blues are frankly, JUST like Montgomery and her lovely phrases, characters, and richness. This is the stuff of summer loveliness, which I’ve grown to enjoy. Summer hasn’t always been my favorite, the knife-thick humidity, blazing sun, and the flies and endless running-around-schedule. However, I’ve come to appreciate what it gives me for later, the fortifying memories, color, and deep, earthy fragrances to carry me through our gray, frigid months. There is something about taking the calendar and dividing into into literature seasons, huh? How absolutely juicy and delicious that sounds! There is something about our dusty, gravel roads that just begs for a little girl with red braids skipping down them.  I’m enjoying these last moments, sitting still in their deepness, filling up, and spilling up and over with this warm wind, brilliant sun, and sky. What a gift for the taking!

~

 

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.)

~

On the Eve…

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September ~

Here we are. On the cusp of a beginning again. My footsteps rang out into the void. A void filled with the music of wind, grasshoppers humming, and silent yet spoken sunshine flickering through the trees. My glorious walk this afternoon, cool air, hot, crisp sun, the temperature dropping drastically as I went under and into the tree cover. My heartbeat matching my strides, leaves rattling and skittering across the road, a bird swooping low, scolding me a bit. I consciously willed to set aside the summer projects that are left unfinished, the unresolved arguments of the morning, upcoming autumn commitments, and close my mind’s eyes to the laundry piles. This moment, this now, is what I have to dwell upon. I think on the beauty at my finger tips and the promise of a fresh, new day and term beginning on the morn. Tomorrow we are back to the beauty feast, of books, art, and gathering together to learn anew.

I listen to the soothing tinkle, and then rushing overflow of water in the gullies and washouts, remnants from the overabundance of water during past week and a half of flooding. The sunshine hits the water, diamonds for the taking, a deep breath and one more step forward. Am I ready? Are we ready? That’s part of the beauty of it all. We don’t have to be or do anything special. Of course, I’ve made my lists, I’ve pulled my books of the shelves, and ordered fresh supplies. We’ve sharpened the proverbial pencils. The truth is this: we are all invited to this table, we show up, the parent and child, students one and all, filling our plates, humbly stepping up to the banquet laid before us. Then we feast on love and grace, we breathe in the comforting disciplines of rhythm and routine, and we snuggle down in all comfortable-like, listening to that beat. That hum, cadence, roll to our days that flows through. It’s called Love. A Love so amazing that it binds, knits, and sews up together in this tapestry of life. Yes, I still have to figure out what happens to those unfinished things, yes, I need to ask forgiveness and mend my relationship, and yep, I need to throw another load into the wash. But I come at it with a bounce in my step, a full belly of gratitude and thanksgiving, and a heart surrendered to Love’s work in our hearts this term.

Happy Beauty Feast Eve.

~

 

August Reads

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Welcome, September! Happy Reading, Friends! How do your pages turn? 🙂 Here is what I finished in August ~

And Then There Were None by Agatha Christie (***) – This was for my Back to Classics Challenge in the Classic Crime Story, fiction or non-fiction category.  I found this story so irritating for some reason! I usually enjoy Christie and it was weird how frustrating I found this…it was just maddening how everyone kept getting killed! HA. 😉 I did not figure out the murderer, yet I had my suspicions, and I suppose the ending was interesting, but overall, this one was not my favorite. I think this is one that you just have to try, because it could be my personal tastes/not the right time, not an actual bad story.

Sailing Alone Around the Room: New and Selected Poems by Billy Collins (*****) – I’m continuing my current obsession with Collins poetry and this one didn’t disappoint. However, it is a collection of poems from all his stand-alone poetry titles, which I didn’t realize. So, I got some repeat poems, but I didn’t mind. I also read Ballistics (*****), which was a beautiful collection of poems by Mr. Collins that I haven’t read before.

Charlotte Mason Companion by Karen Andreola (*****) – This is an annual summer reread for me, and I think it’s the 5th time I’ve gone through it. I’m always so encouraged and inspired as we head into our learning year. Mrs. Andreola is wonderful at gentle encouragement and heart-warming antidotes to everyday worries about parenting, home educating, and understanding the CM philosophy in small, practical ways.  Highly Recommend!

The Blythes are Quoted by L.M. Montgomery – This is billed as the 9th novel in the Anne of Green Gables Series,  but I don’t know how to rate this! I really liked it, especially the poetry, which is funny, because Montgomery’s poetry can be a bit cheesy. These poems seemed more real and had a depth of feeling to them. This collection is dark, sad, and morbid. The short stories deal with a lot of heartache and despair and knowing now more about Maud’s life and marriage, they are probably a bit more honest that a lot of her work. If you don’t want to know the real Maud, and just want to remember her via Anne Shirley, I’d suggest not reading these. This book itself has a storied and unclear history and I found it fascinating that it may have been suppressed or heavily edited originally. I’m repeating myself here, but if you are a die hard Montgomery fan and know her true history, you will love this, but if you prefer to just stay in Green Gables, I wouldn’t read this one.

The Holy Bible (*****) – first half of Psalms, Luke, and John