Chest colds, pottery, and spring fever!

I have recently had some time off from the website due to an unwanted chestcold. I am feeling better and cannot believe it has been so long since I last posted.

We are plugging along in school. Triple H read his first book "Dad, Sam, and Pat" the other day all by himself. I cannot express in words the look of pride on his little face when he realized what he had done. Princess Poodle continues to plug along with her schoolwork. The dreaded winter months have hit and we miss our nature studies and fieldtrips. We are ready for spring!!! History is on hold for a bit as we delve into a basic introduction of the human body.

I have started taking a pottery class and I love it. I went into it with no expectations other than to get my hands dirty. What do I love about it? I love that I get my hands dirty. I love the way the wet clay, spinning round, feels on my fingers. I love that when I am at the wheel everything else in life just fades away. Its just me and that lump of clay. I love the characters I am meeting in my classes and I love having something that is mine and mine alone. I doubt that I will become some master potter. But it is the process I am after not the end product.

Coming up in Hazelnut Academy...history fair project to start with Princess Poodle, spring musical to rehearse for, easter drama for me to rehearse for and hopefully a garden bed to prepare.

The freakishly large squirrel that lives in our backyard. Yes, his face is masked in black like a raccoon.

Thanks for stopping by,

Sketch Tuesday Results: Something Fast

Princess Poodle's hummingbird (rapid wing movement)

Triple H's Fast Train

My attempt...

Thoughts on Jane..Part Two

It is over. I have finished the book and I must say that I was sad to turn the last page. To have to say goodbye to the fiery, benevolent Jane, to bid farwell to the passionate, wild, and at times sturn, Mr. Rochester. I will miss the bouncing curls of little Adele. I will miss the quick wit of Jane and the beauty of the groves at Thornfield. Oh how I long to walk in those groves at dusk and feel the wind come at me through the trees. I must not speak of plot here or I might ruin for one of you, what is to be a great journey in a book. I will say that the Jane Eyre is a work of art. Its characters are so well defined and so very different in personality and rank. I have had tea with a lowly school teacher. I have sat in a room holding a little orphan girl that was locked up and mistreated. I have laughed at the clandestine games of Mr. Rochester. I have wandered across a lonely and desolate moor with a friend in search of something, anything to eat. I have had spiritual conversations on the difference between truth and self-righteousness. I have observed faith in God in such very different forms. Faith rushing out the veins of a little girl on her dying bed, a faith that is pure and nonjudgemental. And I have seen the faith of a stern missionary that although loved God greatly, perhaps he loved his calling a little more than the people around him. A good book for me is one that moves me somewhere inside. Not for mere entertainment, those although pleasurable, are easy to come by. But a good book that makes my insides ache for truth, that makes my blood feel hot, that takes me away to a place that I can't quite put into words, a good book like that is truly a treasure and one not often found. So now I pack the book in my sachel and carry it back to the library. How long will it sit on the shelf undisturbed, just longing for some other young woman to pick it up? I will miss it immensely. But I plan to visit with my friends again this summer because the only thing better than reading a truly good book for the first time is when you get the pleasure of reading it again. Until then Jane...

Sheryl

Thoughts about Jane...part one

I have started reading again. I suppose it is a part of this "awakening" I am going through. I have recently read some short stories by a local author. They made me laugh, they made me cry, and at times they made me cover my ears, I'm not used to cussing. After a recent trip to my local library I now hold in my hands ..Jane...Eyre to be more specific. I have never had the pleasure of reading this piece of art by Bronte. I have never drunk in the words slow enough so they might sit on my lips awhile. I have only just begun this book and I must say I am enthralled. The language is intoxicating, the characters already friends to me, and the soul of this book which I know is yet to be discovered, seems to beckon me to keep reading. I can't wait to see what friendship forms between Jane and myself over the next few days. I have this feeling that she will somehow change me. Other books have done that. They have left a fixed mark upon me that I carry with me year after year. Yes, I may sound silly talking about a book like this, but sometimes books are magical that way. I hope to post more on my thoughts about Jane, my new friend in the making.
Sheryl

A Peek into the Soul of a Child

I have completely cut out morning cartoons. I used to turn on the tv first thing when the kids got up and we would watch them while I cooked breakfast and while we ate breakfast. This seemed normal to me at the time. Recently I have made some changes in our days. I just stopped turning on the tv in morning. Instead I put in some good music, sometimes jazz, sometimes classical, it varies really. I have the music playing softly in the background and now instead of tv, the kids and I talk, the kids talk (and sometimes argue, this isn't utopia). Well to get on with my story, on this particular morning while the classical music was playing, Triple H brought a phonics bingo game to the table and Princess Poodle brought pen and paper. She told me that she wanted to write a poem. I encouraged her to do so and to express what was in her heart, what she was feeling. The following poem is what she wrote. I am thankful for cutting the tv off, for this morning its absence allowed me a peek into the soul of my child. Now I wish I could express how that feels.


The wind to me is the king of the plains.
It swirls in the sky onpon(upon) the morning gray.
It plants the seeds of dandylions in an odd like way.
It plants the seeds of the dandylions in the morning gray.


It is very short but I think it speaks a little bit of what the soul of this precious little girl holds. I ache everyday as she grows up and I see the little girl she once was disappearing before my eyes, and yet I anticipate with such delight at the thought of knowing this amazing soul as she grows into the woman God has made her to be.

No snow in the south but plenty of leaves.

Sketch Tuesday Results

I have started participating in Sketch Tuesdays from Harmony Fine Arts. I have always been afraid of art. Fear of failure, pride, and an older sibling that excelled in art, aided in developing that fear I suppose. I don't want my kids to fear art. I don't want to fear art anymore. So I, the complete non-artist that I am, am trying to encourage Princess Poodle and Triple H to draw and keep drawing, just as I am encouraging them to read, write, and listen to good music. They may never be artist in the true sense, but perhaps they won't fear it as I do.

The latest assignment for Sketch Tuesday was to sketch something old. The kids tossed around various ideas, but decided to sketch an old hunting cabin that hides itself in the woods behind our house. The cabin is no longer in use and I am not sure of its age, but I am sure of its beauty.

Princess Poodle's (7 years)

Triple H's (4 years)