Homeschool planning is getting out of control!
In early July, after explaining to the girls about how to “properly” seed carrots, I planted the seeds in my own rows way too close together. And now there are more carrots growing in this bed than could ever possibly thrive. I already thinned them once, and this morning I thinned them again. I asked Amabel to come take a photo of me as I was working because I was having deep thoughts in the garden about how I need to practice thinning in more areas of my life — not just in the carrot patch.
Wallace entered in the scene and the resulting photo was much better than the serious one I had in mind.
She took me down the big pine hill to the edge of the woods where she’d found an old gnarled apple tree. The apples were beautiful, delicious, and surprisingly blemish free. We gathered them together and I told her that my favorite apples come from trees that are wild.
This bounty kept us busy all day long!
Our dear neighbor Mike took us on an adventure to North Manitou Island, and it felt like traveling to another world. The Island is so close (we look out at it every time we go to the beach) yet so far away (accessible only to overnight campers by ferry or by private boat). North Manitou is part of the Sleeping Bear Dunes National Lakeshore and therefore undeveloped except for what remains of a village from over 50 years ago. Visiting was like being transported back in time. And the rock hunting was amazing! We spent hours on the island and when we got back on the boat it felt like hardly any time had passed at all.
I returned home so rejuvenated in body and soul: so humbled and awed by vast Lake Michigan and this incredibly beautiful land.
this afternoon at the table —
the table around which so much centers:
family meals, conversations,
stories, questions, projects, colors, abundance . . .
Our couch may be tattered
and our table may be worn,
but we are here living together
with our hearts open
and our eyes filled with wonder.
He calls this: “King!”
“It is play, not properness, that is the central artery, the core, the brain stem of creative life. The impulse to play is an instinct. No play, no creative life. Be good, no creative life. Sit still, no creative life.”
— “Woman Who Run with the Wolves” by Clarissa Pinkola Estes: Ballantine Books, 1992: p. 234.