There's a place called Far-away Meadow
We never shall mow in again,
Or such is the talk at the farmhouse:
The meadow is finished with men.
Then now is the chance for the flowers
That can't stand mowers and plowers.
It must be now, through, in season
Before the not mowing brings trees on,
Before trees, seeing the opening,
March into a shadowy claim.
The trees are all I'm afraid of,
That flowers can't bloom in the shade of;
It's no more men I'm afraid of;
The meadow is done with the tame.
The place for the moment is ours
For you, oh tumultuous flowers,
To go to waste and go wild in,
All shapes and colors of flowers,
I needn't call you by name.

 ~"The Last Mowing" :: Robert Frost

My path to enlightenment is paved with waving grasses and the sweet violets of Spring.  It rained all week, setting the grass to seed and giving me a weekend full of mowing.  That's my primary work, at the moment.  A woman with a mower and a wide-brimmed hat.  If a man with a plow walked 5+ miles to an acre, well, I guess that's me, too.  I mowed the berry patch and peach orchard today, and I felt it looked like heaven.  The thick grass, the blooming trees, the promise of things to come.

I've been reading The Old Ways lately, a book about walking and places. Robert MacFarlane walks all manner of places, both local and abroad.  He talks at length about melancholic people walking to cope with the world.  I suppose it is my dream life.  I have been taking the other good weather time to see the wild places, alone and with the children.  I will walk my way to the sublime, whether it be on a gentle hillside or the shores of a lake.

I feel the strong need to be alone lately, like I could never get my fill of it, though I know I will.  I have been alone a long time, though this is new.  I guess what I want is privacy, the chance to have complete thoughts and get lost in daydreams.  I can see visions of my life to come and visions of the lives that once tended the places I mow.  I have been doing that a lot lately.  Some pictures are so clear, I hardly know what to do with them.  "Time will tell" is my new maxim.

Seven :: Gifts

On the day of your birth
You were given gifts,
The seeds of your own will,
To sow upon the earth,
That through your work
The seeds might grow
Into a fruitful garden
Protected by the Tree of Life
Whose branches hold up heaven.

Now your roots grip solid ground,
Glad to be alive.
Your head bears a golden crown
Like the sun that lights the sky.
Your breath weaves in and out
Like the ocean tides,
As the fountain of your heart
Sings the song of life.

You crossed the rainbow bridge,
You left your heavenly home
To walk the green, fruitful earth
Beneath the starry dome.
You know this is the place
To give all your gifts away,
Scattering them like golden seeds
Unfolding every day.
Seed-deeds ripen beneath the sun
Rooted in fertile will
To become the Bread of Life
When the seeds are milled.

~William Ward :: The Waldorf Book of Poetry

Tulip Time :: April Clicks!

Do-It-Yourself Thieves Soap from Mountain Rose Herbs.
Covered button tutorial from Kate Davies Designs.
Living Under the Sky :: On time outside with children in Waldorf settings, practical considerations, and ideas for games and movement circles.
The History of Appalachian English :: Ancient phrases and their modern versions.  I especially enjoy the variation of "greaze."
A Changing Childhood or Changing Children? :: This has been on my mind a lot.
The Word-Hoard: Robert MacFarlane on Rewilding Our Language of Our Landscape :: I really enjoyed his book Landmarks and all the glossaries contained in its pages.  It's the best kind of geography.  I'm reading The Old Ways now.
The Camino Voyage :: Information about Glen Hansard's trip by traditional boat from Ireland to Spain.  I'm impressed!
Tiny Desk Concert: The Swell Season :: This is an older recording from NPR, but I really love most anything Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova do.
Nettle Cake :: This cake looks like it is covered in moss.  What could be better?
Waldorf and Minimalist :: Interesting thoughts here.  I certainly have a lot to think about for the future.

And with that, more April showers are in the air, clearing out a little later.  Rain and mist and fog are the way of it lately.  I've got lots of things to do today, as old things wrap up and new ones begin.  The joy in my heart is so profound.

Cloudland

Fog greeted us on Whitetop, just as I was looking for expansive views.  It's a silly thing, perhaps, to leave the relative warmth of the valley and lose twenty degrees climbing the mountains.  We had a lovely, chilly time, all the same.

Snail Therapy

That's the Western half of my little town down there.  It's quite hilly, though I live on the flat-ish karst side that the mountains hide from this view.

Spring is spring beauties right now.  Other flowers are slow in coming, but I expect a bumper crop of Dutchman's breeches soon.  Otherwise, the woods up high are still pretty silent, brown places.

Whether the winds or squirrels made this little cache, I love it.  I know it was the wind that swept most of the leaves away, leaving plenty of treasures uncovered.

Always snail shells.  Always.

The children re-wilded, if you want to call it that.  They were so happy to be in their place again and worked tirelessly on their vintage bottle and can collection.

The buckeyes are always the first to leaf out and always get burned by the frosts.  I think, if I were a tree, I'd be a buckeye.  Not because I am purported to be half poisonous, but because I am always so anxious for the next phase of life. 

If I could be more like the moss, patiently making my way, now that would be something. 

When despair for the world grows in me 
and I wake in the night at the least sound 
in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be, 
I go and lie down where the wood drake 
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds. 
I come into the peace of wild things 
who do not tax their lives with forethought 
of grief.  I come into the presence of still water. 
And I feel above me the day-blind stars waiting with their light. For a time 
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

~Wendell Berry

Things as They Come

My children look at the world so differently than I did at their age.  They are so much more awake.  I've considered that my own childhood was a series of things that happened to me.  Maybe much of my life has been that way?  I was just swept along with the tide, ever-accepting of things as they came. 

Am I now in a new season of my life where I take the reins and make things happen on my own?  I see myself making new connections in everyday settings.  I see people happy to meet me.  I see the world as an open place, and myself ready to meet it!  What a powerful feeling to have!

I have come to the frightening conclusion that I am the decisive element.

It is my personal approach that creates the climate.

It is my daily mood that makes the weather.

I possess tremendous power to make a life miserable or joyous.

I can be a tool of torture, or an instrument of inspiration.

I can humiliate or humor, hurt or heal.

In all situations, it is my response that decides whether a crisis will be escalated or de-escalated, and person humanized or dehumanized.

If we treat people as they are, we make them worse.

It we treat people as they ought to be, we help them become what they are capable of becoming.

~Goethe, as taken from The Waldorf Book of Poetry

April

I looked out the window on Monday night and it was snowing sideways.  Spring is so slow in coming to stay this year.  I guess nearly everyone has the same thing to report.  It was gloriously warm yesterday and we did our best to soak it in.  Nature school at our local state park, time on the porch, and a picnic in the backyard.  The wind kept me up much of the night, along with the restless feelings that April always seems to bring me.  I didn't mind this time.

My mind is so full of things right now that I don't think I really form words around it all.  It is good, mostly, to be sure, some of it overwhelmingly so.  The new shape of my life suits me very well and I feel myself coming into a new place.  This little quotation has been a help to me lately, so I thought I would share it here.  I found it in The Waldorf Book of Poetry, which seems to have no end of good material, all around.

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, 'Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?'

Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God.

Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you.

We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.

~Marianne Williamson

A Song from the Suds

Queen of my tub, I merrily sing,
While the white foam raises high,
And sturdily wash, and rinse, and wring,
And fasten the clothes to dry;
Then out in the free fresh air they swing,
Under the sunny sky.

 I wish we could wash from our hearts and our souls
The stains of the week away,
And let water and air by their magic make
Ourselves as pure as they;
Then on the earth there would be indeed
A glorious washing day!

Along the path of a useful life
Will heart's-ease ever bloom;
 The busy mind has no time to think
Of sorrow, or care, or gloom;
And anxious thoughts may be swept away
As we busily wield a broom.

 I am glad a task to me is given
To labor at day by day;
For it brings me health, and strength, and hope,
And I cheerfully learn to say- 
'Head, you may think; heart, you may feel;
But hand, you shall work always!'

~Louisa May Alcott, as taken from The Waldorf Book of Poetry

Nature School at the Water's Edge

Believe me, if all those endearing young charms,

Which I gaze on so fondly to-day,  

Were to change by to-morrow, and fleet in my arms,

Like fairy-gifts, fading away!  

Thou wouldst still be ador'd as this moment thou art,

Let thy loveliness fade as it will;  

And, around the dear ruin, each wish of my heart

Would entwine itself verdantly still! 

 

It is not while beauty and youth are thine own,
And thy cheeks unprofan'd by a tear,    
That the fervour and faith of a soul can be known,
To which time will but make thee more dear!

Oh! the heart, that has truly lov'd, never forgets, 
  But as truly loves on to the close;
As the sun-flower turns on her god, when he sets, 
  The same look which she turn'd when he rose!

~Thomas Moore

Supporting Self-Directed Play

The past week has brought a transformation here, both as we have checked off some big tasks and as the children's moods have shifted in a big way.  After supper last night, they involved themselves in extended train play, with tokens to pass between stations, an infirmary, and office workers.  The transitions between all those things were largely seamless, disputes were handled good-naturedly, and the coming of bedtime song was met happily.  It was amazing.

I wanted to elaborate more on self-directed play, especially since I have seen such an improvement in this area.  With my children being the center of my efforts, I have been free to begin to shape things around their needs and mine.  This is very freeing for all of us.  Furniture has been moved, added, removed, and so on.  Feeling so crowded previously, it is so nice to have some space and flexibility.  I have chosen to go back to a kindergarten mood, with a corner to be quiet (or have sheep) in, more house play, more vehicle play, more everything play.



The weather has cooperated by being cold and wet, so time inside has been quite welcome.  The children all took turns at their own pillow houses, as they called them, sometimes sharing and sometimes not.  There was some possessiveness over these houses, but each owner still felt it was nice for them to have them for a time.  Willow's house is below.  Just as I had lost hope in her "good ole days" of play, she has surprised me.  I had a feeling she needed some of that familiar activity, in addition to her time spent on higher pursuits, like Nancy Drew and piano.  Perhaps, through healthy play, she is freed from the feeling of being the oldest?  I am interested to see how things go.

I really wanted to share more about Supporting Self-Directed Play.  I found the book to be immeasurably helpful in a home setting with multiple children.  I've read nearly all the Waldorf titles and scoured the Online Waldorf Library, and this is the best resource I've found.  It discusses the kinds of self-directed play children engage in (mandalas!), gives numerous accounts from teachers, and provides many helpful photos.  There are pictures that are very familiar to me!  It also gives charts with differences between children who are well engaged in their self-directed play and those who are struggling. 

Time and again, in my parenting journey, I've found that there is not some magic spell that changes everything.  And yet, there are moments when everything changes.  What has shifted?  Has the world suddenly become easy?  Not in the least!  I have simply looked at the same thing with renewed eyes or returned to something that was allowed to fade away.   Often, it is my own change of heart that allows things to get past a sticky spot and move on a more even keel.  This book stresses that the inner life of the teacher matters greatly.

I wanted to share a short list of books that I think are essential to understanding children's play, in addition to Supporting Self-Directed Play:

• Toymaking with Children by Freya Jaffke :: This book discusses the stages in play between birth and seven, along with recommended playthings for each age range.  It includes instructions for Waldorf dolls, play stands, knitted cords, bunting beds, wooden toys, silk marionettes, and the very open-ended toys seen in kindergartens.  
• Children at Play by Heidi Britz-Crecelius :: Consider this a history of play.  The author collected numerous first-hand experiences, along with those from literature, of how children played up to the age of ten or so.  All age ranges are discussed, with particular interest in older children who were able to have "free-range" experiences.  It includes "The Day We Flew the Kites," a personal favorite of mine.
• Spindrift from Wynstones :: This is part of a seasonal collection that I really love, but this book stands out as a good all-around resource.  It has verses for work and play, songs in the pentatonic scale, and a large number of stories from around the world.  The children enjoy hearing them time and again.  I include it because I think it can inspire everyday work to be more playful, and it can provide material for circle times and read-alouds.
• Work and Play in Early Childhood by Freya Jaffke :: I guess you can figure that I like what she has to say, and I appreciate the wisdom of older Waldorf teachers.  This book offers more detail on how children play, with color photos and suggestions for inner work for teachers.  I enjoy books with photos, because I like my children to see how other children play and work in a similar setting. 

Lastly, I'd like to include some videos that show children at play in Waldorf Early Childhood settings: 

• Sophia's Hearth :: Numerous seasonal videos, teacher training.
• Escuela Waldorf Alicante :: 3 to 6 year olds, 1 to 3 year olds, and daily work. 
• WECAN :: A series of six videos with scenes of play and reflections from parents and teachers.

It's time for me to get on with other work, though you can tell that I am so pleased to be writing about this topic and our improvements. I wanted to share a few final thoughts.  Things have been messier, the best kind of messes-- the kind that are alive and energetic, calm and thoughtful.  I thought this quote from Supporting Self-Directed Play really captured what the children are doing when they play:

We have built the whole world.

Symbols of Eternity

The hills are our symbols of eternity.  There they stand, the evidence of things seen, as nearly everlasting and unchangeable as anything man may know.  One who has dwelled within them senses that they are beyond the horizon, even when he is in the level lands.  For this reassurance, all hill people will be duly thankful. . . 

In some manner, a mountain country places its mark on those who dwell within its shadows.  Scots carry with them a Highland pride of birth and place, even though they may wander thousands of miles from heather-covered moors. . . And thus it is with those nurtured in Appalachia--they leave, but they look back, remembering pleasant things.  The land has claimed them, and its ties will not be severed.

Maurice Brooks :: The Appalachians

We traveled over to Rich Valley yesterday, a winding and welcome journey after a long Winter.  We visited the Swing Place, of course, and collected daffodils for our pleasure at home.  I never tire of these views, never.  I would gladly live in that little house with the karst limestone so very near.  When I do leave these mountains and find flat, straight roads, I feel oddly without my navigational bearings.  I hardly know what to do when I am not hemmed in and I always feel glad to come home.

As my life changes and I find new footing, I feel glad for these mountains.  Of course, I have to redefine my mental picture of many of my favorite places.  Fifteen years prior, that seemed almost too painful for me to do, but now I see them with new, hopeful eyes.  These places have been here years beyond counting.  They know what to do.

Easter Things and Self-Directed Play

The weekend was so difficult for me, truly, that I hardly knew what to do.  The unexpected grief that comes up at unpredictable times is baffling.  I do not miss my old life, and I have all that I need here, but there are such feelings of despair that well up.  I was just so sad, in the midst of what should have been joy.  And then yesterday--yesterday it was mostly gone!  I was productive and present and feeling much better.  I guess that is the way it goes.

The children have been doing the same, I venture to guess.  There are times of relief, of seeing that what is new is also good, and there are dark times where they are plumbing their own depths.  And how funny (and appropriate!) it is that divorce is mentioned when you do a grammar check on that phrase!  Equilibrium takes wider swings these days, but we are seeing it.

Self-directed play has improved, as you can see from the birthday party Laurel threw for Healing Mouse.  The wee mouse is at the center on the swing.  He lives in the doctor kit and Willow helped to make him.  I got a book in the mail on the topic of this kind of play and the photos themselves are a wonderful inspiration.  The children photographed have made wonderful creations--the best kind of "messes."  They are masterpieces, really.

Play has been disjointed here for a couple years.  I used to take such pride and wonder at how creative the children would be, but then it crumbled as various stresses reached boiling points.  We had difficult neighbors, the traveling job saw more travel, we became last place.  It feels so piercing to write that that last one, but it is true.  This situation did not arise out of arguments, but out of a silent dysfunction of which we only knew the surface.

My hope is that things will only continue to improve, as they should.  We have a few more humps to get over in the coming weeks, and then I dream of Summer.  Imagine that!  Dreaming of Summer!  It will be hard-won, for sure, and I cannot help but feel or wish that something really good and boring is coming our way.  May there be many more hours of self-directed play.  That simple thing would bring such gladness!