Alina's Adventures

Chatting about scarcity and cost-benefit analysis with little folks.

I decided to out on a limb and experiment with a little story about economic scarcity, trade, and cost-benefit analysis. Why not start teaching economics at the age of 3? Why, if more people learned economics at the age of 3, then command economies and Reagonomics would have been seen for the gluttonous disasters they inevitably became. But I'm getting ahead of myself...

Back to the events in the smallest Castle this side of Switzerland.... I read Aesop's fable of the Crow and the Pitcher aloud to all four kids. Then I told the Eldest it that he would be witnessing an experiment- and that he should take note of what he he observed.

Little B., the Gnome, and the Prophet each received a coloring page depicting a crow and a pitcher. We talked about the crow's wisdom in making a cost-benefit analysis of whether or not to look elsewhere for water. Knowing the drought created a scarcity of water everywhere, the crow decided to think creatively and devise his own solution to the water just out of his reach. 

All fine and good. The Gnome even repeated the word "scarcity" at one point (I wondered whether the word sounded scary, like "scare city", to her). Now the ladies were ready to start coloring. When they asked for crayons, I distributed the resources in a rather frown-inspiring manner:

Prophet= four blue crayons

Little B.= four green crayons

Gnome= four orange crayons

Fortunately, the Eldest hadn't yet figured out where I was going with the experiment. And he didn't get a chance to think much longer because the whining commenced instantaneously, like a synchronized swimming performance.

"But, I want pink!"

"Me, too! Why does she have all the orange?

"I don't like blue. I have four blues! I need another color!"

Little B. was the first to make an offer to "trade" one color for another. The whining turned into a flurry of trading. Colors changed hands repeatedly, though no one seemed to have a solution for the missing pink crayon problem.

The Eldest got a kick out of the experiment results. He had no problem at all writing a journal entry on the most common human solutions to scarcity, mostly trade and specialization. We tossed around a few examples of economic decision-making, or cost-benefit analysis, including the looming question of whether we should pay for our new water pipes out of pocket or put it on credit.

Then we read an article in Wired magazine about four really clever crows who'd obviously read their Aesop. I don't want to give away the article's conclusion, but it paves a path for a little behavioral economics add-on lesson, should the fancy strike.

Then we argued over solutions to another problem endemic to the Castle, namely, scarcity of space. Should we invest in better tools for organization (i.e. special shelving, closets, etc.) or should we add another room to the house? What kinds of social goods are implicated in the consideration of space? And so on- straight into one of those moments where there is no one in the world with whom I'd rather learn than the zany bunch sharing this scarce space with me.

As for those worksheets we didn't finish, I figured the King might enjoy a little econ-chat with the Eldest. Kings are really good at worksheets.

Experiments in lapbooking: Whereupon the Eldest becomes an expert on Antarctica.

Since Bunica and Ratpaw just set off for a three week visit to the coldest continent in the world, it made sense to study what we will surely be regaled with upon their return. Of course, everything begins with a map. Using the brochure from Bunica's expedition (in the photo above), the Eldest traced her voyage around the edges of the Antarctic Peninsula. 

We played around with maps for a good part of the afternoon, exploring the edges of the known world, fiddling with the colors in which such things are "known".

The Fantastic Antarctica Map (They Draw and They Travel)

For the lapbooking inserts, I combined free things found with things we made on the spur of the moment, intrigued by a particular I scoured the web for lapbooking resources and pooled the freebies together into one file which you can download and print below.

Antartica Lapbook Components (PDF)

There was so much to explore and learn that our expedition turned into something between a unit study, a lapbook, and a reckless cavorting. Loads to learn and see at Time Magazine for Kids' special Antarctica Mini-site.

resources for free exploration of antarctic climate and geography
Land of Ice worksheet (Time Magazine for Kids)
The Ozone Hole Tour (Center for Atmospheric Studies)
Ice sheets (British Antarctic Survey)
Ice shelves (British Antarctic Survey)
Ice streams (British Antarctic Survey)
Explorapoles (International Polar Foundation)

Tip of the Iceberg Notebooking Page (PDF)
A creative writing exercise.

Gibbs Island Icefalls Coloring Exercise (PDF)
A description and topographic coloring activity of "icefalls".

Deception Island Foldable Booklet (PDF)
Printable booklet on the history of Deception Island.

free resources on antarctic explorations
Exploring Antarctica worksheet (Time Magazine for Kids)
Polar Exploration worksheet (Time Magazine for Kids)
The best resource page for every single expedition (Scott Polar Research Institute)

free resources on antarctic species and life
Emperor penguin adaptations worksheet (Time Magazine for Kids)
Go Penguins Go worksheet (Time Magazine for Kids)
Three kinds of penguins worksheet (Time Magazine for Kids)

As we continue our trip through the icefalls and ice streams of the Antarctic, I'll try to add what we learn from Bunica's voyage. On the slate for Friday: An investigation of expeditions and explorers who dared to go where no landlubbering mammals had gone before.

How we "survived" the southern Snowpocalypse of 2014.

We played and cavorted in the snow as if it was just another miraculous day on this planet. Since we don't have cable or satellite TV (and we have only one TV in our home), we stayed fairly oblivious to the events of the southern Snowpocalypse.

Snow covers the garden plot.

Two frozen garden gnomes.

Cold and cute go hand in hand.

And so the snow fell, clogging traffic, stranding the King for a hour one drive over 8 measly miles. My sister got trapped at UAB; she and another resident tried to drive home, but couldn't make it through Birmingham's icy hills. Her husband saved the day by driving through the disaster to retrieve her. The King's brother walked three miles through the snow in Atlanta to get to a safe house where he could sleep.

Watching the snow from the front window.

Little B. enjoys a water-less campout by the fireplace with hot cocoa in hand.

Abandoned cars clogged the streets and roadways. Families wept, wondering where their sons, daughters, dads, and moms might be. The stories of kindness and courage continue, interspersed with heartwrenching tales of accidents and untimely deaths.

Students in Atlanta were trapped in their schools.
Helicopters searched the roads for stranded drivers in chilling conditions.
Students in Alabama spent two nights trapped in their schools.
The Washington Post shared photos of what it called "the South's disastrous response to a snow storm".
NPR describes the "rush hour from hell".
In Birmingham, helping others is described as "the way we do things around here".
Tuscaloosa businesses feel the chill.
Two drivers were killed when they collided with a train in Cottondale.
Local resident Brian Howard helped stranded drivers get home.
School bus driver Sylvia Anderson earned accolades for bringing little ones home safely.
City schools closed, and the Tuscaloosa city council meeting was cancelled.
Three Brookwood boys get caught stealing a four-wheeler when a rescue helicopter spots them.

Grandma Vicki called to tell me that Tuscaloosa had made the Athens, Ohio newspaper. She worried about us. I assured her that we were fine.

Of course, I did not mention the fact that our water pipes have been broken since last week- and that the front lawn was flooded by a broken pipe which could not be fixed until weather permitted. That's the sort of thing that would ruin Grandma Vicki's day. And ruining her day would ruin mine as well.

 

All the excavating in the front yard made it hard not to think about the significance of this day- the winter storm and how two inches of snow and ice can wreck an entire region of unprepared cities. We decided to make a time capsule and bury it in the front yard before the dirt was replaced.

 

And so the house gnomes scoured the house for trinkets and tidbits to add to the time capsule. The Eldest suggested we add a large letter "P" as a tribute to the King, who was unable to be with us during the auspicious ceremonials. Since the letter P stands for pedagogical and persnickety and piddle-some, I consented to the tribute.

Milla decided to donate her Hello Kitty lunch box as the vehicle for the time capsule. A few favorite collector's cards were included by the ladies as the Eldest did his best to pen the perfect time capsule letter- one which represented the occasion (i.e. the excavation of our yard during the 2013 snowstorm) as well as his current feelings on various friends, wood trails, dog breeds, etc. 

Finally, the time capsule was ready to bury, just around the time when the plumbing company approached me for a the smallest number that can be called a four-digit sum. I didn't dare disrupt the solemn burial procession with tears over the high cost of home ownership. The procession itself, of course, deserves a post all its own. Forthcoming.

The surprise of snow.

During our first economics lesson this morning- one involving an experiment of crayon scarcity- a little person looked out the window and screamed, "It's SNOWING!" Pandemonium ensued.

Suddenly, the room was taken over by jumping, leaping little people seeking gloves, mittens, hats, coats, and snow, snow, snow. Obviously, our exploration of scarcity would have to make way for our immediate exploration of snow (which does tend to be rather scarce in these parts).

There's something very, very funny about snow in the south.

Of course, little B. needed to try a taste...

The Gnome reminded me of how much she "loves snow".

The Eldest led the group in various tromps around the yard to observe where the snow was accumulating."These are the places we will find snowball-making materials in a few hours..." he declared.

Extensive concern was expressed over Pinka's ability to navigate the snow and find shelter from it within the yard. So the little people pushed the playhouse closer to Pinka within reach of her lead.

Then our neighbors from up the street dropped by to see if the Eldest wanted to play in the snow. And off he went, red-cheeked and bubbling. 

Oh, how I love watching the plans of a day fall away in the face of joy, wonder, and surprise snow play...

A neighborhood winter walk to warm us up... in nonsense verse.

 A gaggle of gigglers strolling down the neighborhood street,

wondering what creatures they might happen-chance to meet.

Up Dead Man's Hill, our legs burning like fire,

Leonard Cohen would have liked that bird on that wire.

A baby-wearing mom-friend smiles at the summit,

While a prosperous gnome asks "Hey, are we done yet"?

The joys of a winter walk are too many to count,

we frown at the sunset that bids us dismount.

Using paperclips to count, measure, and craft.

We decided to explore the bendable, marvelous world of the common paperclip today. As usual, it began with a doodle that turned into a coloring page and handout. You can download your own version (free, as always) below.

PAPERCLIPPINGS HANDOUT AND COLORING PAGE (PDF)

First came the counting. The Prophet counted ten paperclips, reduced the pile by three, increased the pile by seven, and then divided the pile in half. There are so many ways to play counting and math games with paperclips.... So so many. Even the Gnome couldn't help counting out her own pile and making additions to it.

Key to the crafting was the counting out of paperclips and the measuring and lining up of like paperclips. We measured shoes, hands, feet, belts, dolls, and books. 

"That book is 6 paperclips wide and 3 paperclips long," said the Prophet.

PAPERCLIP MEASUREMENT GRAPH (PDF)

After the counting and graphing, the Prophet was ready to start working on her paperclip necklace.

We whipped out the washi tape and started linking the clips.

Borrowing a few tutorials I found online, we spent some time crafting and creating an assortment of necklaces (i.e. we fooled around). Key to the crafting was the counting out of paperclips and the measuring and lining up of like paperclips.

So the chain-making began....

Matching different widths of washi tape to different paperclip sizes.

After making a chain using large and medium sized paperclips in alternating patterns, the girls sorted the thick washi tape rolls from the thin washi tape rolls. We agreed that using the thick washi tape rolls with the larger paperclips would look better and cover the right amount of area. 

We tore off pieces of tape to simplify our "bead-making".

As the Gnome and the Prophet applied the tape, they made sure to cover what the Prophet called "loose ends"- the parts of the paper clip that moved and shifted. In so doing, they ensured that the necklaces would "stick".

Paperclipping possibilities abound.

Afternoon of the Elves is an afternoon of free reading comprehension questions for anyone who needs them.

 

Alas, every time I look for free reading resources online, I am re-routed to websites demanding that I fork over over at least ten dollars for a set of questions. This means that yours truly decided to write the questions herself. And, in most cases, I make the questions available free to other parents and students who happen to be searching for the same things online...

AFTERNOON OF THE ELVES READING COMPREHENSION & ESSAYS (4 pages PDF)

other follow-up ideas

Have readers create a title caption and illustration for each chapter of this book.

Use magazine photos to make a collage about the story.

Create an illustrated map of the elf land based on descriptions in the story. Label various locations where scenes take place. Try to imagine it as it comes alive from Hillary's perspective.

What to do when the pipes freeze and burst.

Yes, that's right- when the pipes freeze and burst, there is only one solution that comes to mind. Time to catch up on "The Onion". Specifically, time to cackle and snicker while poring over the following articles with absolutely no concern whatsoever for the cost of plumbing.

Woman takes short half-hour break from being a feminist to enjoy a TV show

All-Knowing invisible hand of free market once again guides millions in profits to nation’s bead stores

Report: Lake ice grows safer to venture out onto with each beer consumed

24 hour news cycle seems like it's taking forever

8th grader caked in make-up probably really confident

Roamschooling the Garden of the Gods.

roamchooling: the how and why

As you may know, we are big fans of roamschooling. Since people have asked me about how roamschooling works, I thought I'd give an example of the way it plays out for us "in the field", so to speak. Every roamschool is different in that generates a variety of learning opportunities rooted in the curiosities of a particular time, place, and ecosystem. This post is a good example of how "roamschooling" works out in day-to-day life.

1. finding a roamschool "site"

On the drive back from Colorado to Alabama, we headed through Colorado Springs en route to Texas. The time had come for a little family plant-watering, so we looked for signs indicating a wilderness area or park. I saw a sign for a park named "Garden of the Gods". It was amusing enough to warrant further investigation. After following the signs through town, we noticed a strange sight- some large, pointed red rocks rising from the ground in the hills ahead. 

"I've never seen anything like it....." exclaimed the Eldest.

We decided to make a picnic of it. 

The Prophet pretends to read the trail signs.

2. nature study observations

 "So.... why aren't there any tall trees in the Garden of the Gods?"

"Obviously, Mom," began the Eldest,"this wind is would blow them over.... Which might be why I see scrub oaks over there...."

"Scrub oaks? How can you tell?"

"Because they're short and scrubby- and they grow all curvy."

"Wow, Eldest, I think you're right! Check out the mini oak leaves!"

At this point, we make a note to update our nature journals about seeing the possible scrub oak. The Eldest reminds me to take a few photos for species identification at a later time- when we have access to a field guide. Since roamschooling almost always presents unexpected learning topics (in this case, the scrub oak), taking photos reminds us of what we can explore in depth once we leave the field. Believe me, the sense of wonder and curiosity resulting from such discoveries leads the young folks to demand a follow-up.

3. sense-based impressions and keepsakes

The amazing, powerful wind swept us along.

The Prophet enjoys a rock, while the Gnome (in the background) touches the dry, arid orange dirt. We can't help commenting on the tactile surprises- how different the Garden of the Gods engages our senses.

Everyone collects a rock, a piece of a plant, some keepsake to evoke the particular sensual impressions made by our surroundings. In the car, we'll take out our keepsakes and play with them- discussing how they are particular or special to our roamschooling location, possibly sketching them or weaving stories around them.

Though it takes us a while to find a picnic location in which our food does not blow away, we finally settle near a grove of shrub oaks.

4. investigating local information resources

Exploring the displays at the Garden of the Gods park center.

Rather than beginning with the nature center or park center or flier, our roamschools begin with the wandering and the exploration of the site. This keeps us open to new impressions and allows to absorb what stands out rather than to look for what is considered to be "officially" interesting. But the official stories are fascinating as well. 

So we end our on-site roamschools by seeking more information about the site, usually by visiting a visitor's center, talking to park rangers or people who seem eager to answer our questions, and looking for fliers or brochures to prompt further learning. The kids tend to ask questions which they formulated "in the field"- questions that prove much more interesting than those they would ask had they entered the field with a prior assumption of what to ponder or wonder.

The King offers a Tex-Mex snack. So generous for a faux artistocrat.

 5. follow-up

Follow-up is all the ways in which we discuss and explore what we learned- or what we want to learn- after the roamschool has concluded. There is always a nature journal component as well as a storytelling component (in which we tell stories about things we have seen and explore the actual history of the place). Some parts of follow-up take place in the car; other parts require us to wait until we return to home base (nature identification, historical investigations, etc.).

I'll share our home base nature study of scrub oaks soon, but I did make a worksheet exploring the geology and elevation of the Garden of the God. All four kids enjoyed visualizing and coloring it.

THE GARDEN OF THE GODS COLORING EXERCISE (PDF)

 6. keep on chooglin'

The questions and interests revealed by one roamschool often sets the scene for the next. For example, an interest in scrub oaks might lead us to a visit an nearby arborist or a Japanese botanical garden. The fun of roamschooling is not static- it unfurls into further adventures and ideas. It also prepares young folks for the fine art of loving the life they lead by encouraging observation and appreciation of differences between one place and another. As the Eldest says when inspired by Credence Clearwater Revival, "Keep on chooglin'..."

Writing prompt of the day.

Let's see what comes of it. Between myself and the Eldest, surely something redeemable....

Making necklaces that spell our names in Morse code- the preface to learning to code computers.

Knowing a little code never hurt anyone. Since the Eldest is currently studying the invention of Morse code, I've been enchanted by what I've learned (yes, the home educators boon- always learning something fascinating I somehow managed to overlook as a student).

A HISTORY OF MORSE CODINGS

Morse code was developed around the same time as the electrical telegraph. In 1836, artist Samuel F. B. Morse, physicist Joseph Henry, and inventor Alfred Vail created the electrical telegraph system to send electric pulses across great distances. Since the system did not give you the capacity to speak or hear noises, the inventors came up with a code which allowed them to communicate using only the electric pulses sent by the telegraph. 

Made up of dots and dashes, Morse code evolved over time. At first, the dots and dashes were printed out by the telgraph machine and read by a trained operator. As time went by, people were trained to hear the "dits" and "dahs" by ear. The news that you had a telegraph waiting meant that someone was sending a very important and timely piece of information to you. Soldiers' wives often dreaded the telegraphs when their husbands were on the battle front.

With the invention of the telephone, most people switched their attention from the telegraph to the phone. But Morse code and the electrical telegraph continued to be used for military and diplomatic communication.

SAMUEL MORSE: ARTIST AND INVENTOR HANDOUT (free PDF)

CRAFT: MAKING MORSE CODE NECKLACES

This crafting endeavor was inspired by Classic Play, a great online resource for ideas on how to play all day. 

We used this copy of the Morse code to print out and "spell" our names.

The Eldest coded for us.

We talked about how we would use the pasta to symbolize "dashes" and the beads to symbolize "dots".

It would be a pity to go through this craft without honing our counting skills....

The Prophet counted out ten beads for each of the ladies to paint.

The Gnone looked on carefully.

The Gnome lines up her pieces into "stripes" to check for broken or bum pasta.

Now the painting of pasta dashes began.

Little B. painstakingly paints a pasta shell.

Stringing our beads took a little time.  

The thin white beads were added as "spacers" between each Morse code letter.

We strung the dashes and dots backwards so the necklaces would "read" our names correctly.

The Gnome proudly displays her Morse name.

Little B. decided to make a gift for her mommy- one which spelled her mommy's name. I hope it brings a smile to her mommy's day.

An alpine sunrise followed by logistical decisions.

On the day when the King captured this Colorado sunrise, we sipped coffee and debated whether to head over to Raven at Three Peaks, a golf course that an electrician told us was great for sledding and nordic skiing.

The possibility of skiing on a golf course did not sound alluring- but the King insisted that we should rather play it safe than play it sorry.

The Phish song, "Northern Lights", came to mind.

"I think we should look for some easy hiking trails and try to ski those...." I said.

"How about Breckenridge?"

"Breck is so geared up and hip- I'd rather go somewhere with a negligible cool factor, somewhere I can fit in."

The King almost rolled his eyes. But, instead, he asked me to suggest another location. So I went back to my original longing- to explore some old mine trails some where closer to the treeline. Say, Baldy Mine Loop Tour, for example.

Or Herman's Gulch?

Or the Peaks Trail? That one smacked of adventure.

"Aren't those the trails designated as possible disasters?" my husband asked.

"Adventures, disasters, glass half empty, glass half full....."

The trails around Dillon looked- at first- like something we might be able to agree upon. That is, until other, more winsome possibilities came to mind. 

Sometimes everything we might do stacks high against those few things we can do. But we can agree on the beauty of an alpine sunrise. And we can take it from there, this once, again.

A brief dip into my Romanian family history circa 1934 and 1935.

The year was 1933. My grandfather attended the Boys and Girls National Dance Festival in Sibiu, Romania. You can see my grandmother in the third row from the bottom. Her smile is the bright one lighting the 5th face from the right.

In September of 1934, my grandfather sits in the front with his brother, Parsifal, standing to his upper right. Parsifal was killed by the American planes that bombed Bucharest at the end of World War II. 

Despite the misery of war and the loss of his only sibling, my grandfather still found a way to enjoy sailing on the lake at Parcul Herestrau, one of my favorite haunts in Bucharest.

DIY beautiful birds lapbook.

The birds hover, chatter, and twitter all over the yard. Spring looks to be settling in early this year. And we've been working hard on our Beautiful Birds lapbook.

The Eldest's illustration of Emily's Dickinson's bird poem.

For the lapbook pages made by yours truly, just right-click to download in PDF format.

BEAUTIFUL BIRDS LAPBOOK COVER PAGE 
The girls colored the page and then we labelled the parts of the funky bird.

NEST BOOK 
The girls cut and colored the little book about nests. We used watercolor scraps to make a pocket.

BIRD SONGS BOOKLET 
Used to color and collage in lapbook where blank spaces arise.

TEACUP BIRD FEEDERS INSERTS

BIRD COLORING PAGE from Mr. Printables
Imagining different shapes as part of birds. 

I made a few booklets about feathers, beaks, and feet to contrast the different types found in varying species. We discussed how habitats and food requirements are related to body parts. Then we added them to the right edge of the lapbook with our trusty stapler.

I don't remember where I found this nest and egg printable, but we used it to observe the difference in egg coloring across bird species.

Ballet without the princess and tiara nonsense.

Little B. and the Prophet learn basic ballet steps.

I am so happy to have found a ballet program without princesses and tiaras.

At Riverwood Classical School, the girls learn how to dance ballet....

instead of learning how to preen and demand additional princess paraphenalia.

To dance is to learn the body's most intricate disciplines.

To feel music as it brushes through your arms and legs.

The girls sang, "tondue", on the ride back home.

Riverwood offers a class for the Gnome as well- no costumes to purchase and simple recitals with a borrowed tutu.

The Gnome enjoys the toddler ballet class.

A stroll in Colorado interrupted by a household scene.

We went for a walk- because marriage sometimes requires such things on extended family vacations involving extensive planning and gear.

The icicles hung like horns from water spouts. We had forgotten to make any new year's resolutions, and wondered whether it was too late to start such pondering.

The remnants of the New Year's festivities crawled, caterpillar-like, over the face of a tree trunk.

As I type, remembering our search for wildflowers, Milla sits in my lap, sobbing a little, saying maybe she just needed a hug. Little B. is angry- she has decided that she wants to sit in my lap now, just as Milla needed it. So she watches us from the chair, demanding that Milla get down. 

I explain that Milla hasn't been in my lap in two days, while Little B. was in my lap just an hour ago. But B. is not interested in these explanations. She is sits in the chair, throwing things onto the floor, staring at us, flailing arms and legs, complaining that she wants to sit in my lap right now.

Milla's tears finally slow, and I wonder what next. To reward B. for her tantrum by removing Milla? Or to try and explain further? Maybe to excuse myself from the scene entirely and use the restroom? Knowing how to proceed is worth millions- and I have neither millions nor insight at this moment when I most need it.

 

The King is busy working for our keep in the dark cellars of corporate America. I wonder what to do next. And, sometimes, the wondering is the best I can do.

Sledding without sight.

Last year, when we went to the best sledding hill near Keystone, the weather conditions were rather different. Simply put, a blizzard-like wind was blowing as we tried to sled this year.

Ratpaw covered from tip to toe to guard against the cold winds.

The King races with the sled- a wind so strong it rattles the sled in his arms.

The Prophet and the Gnome watch the King prepare his course.

The Kind describes his daring deeds to Ratpaw.

And so on it went...

Finally, the complete lack of visibility and the furor of the wind sent us home in search of hot chocolate, thick wool socks, and a fireplace.

Rose hips in the snow.

It was the Prophet who first observed the red rosehips speckling the snow.  In my haste to keep snowshoeing, I asked her why she was tarrying, dragging her little snowshoes at a snail-envying pace.

"Look, mommy," she held up a torn twig with two bright red rosehips upon it. With this one simple action, she waved a magic wand. Suddenly, I could see rosehips everywhere....

And then I could imagine how Keystone might look in the spring. How to thank the small persons who open our eyes and minds to a present that pulsates with "presence"?

Our daily tea time ritual.

Since the King usually misses our daily tea time ritual at 10:30 am, we decided to invite him to a weekend version this past Saturday. 

The ritual begins with the boiling of water, the selection of a tea, and then allowing the tea to steep in a pot as I read a story (usually a folk tale or legend) on the living room floor. On Saturday, I decided to rock the boat by reading a picture book (just to make sure the King didn't get bored- you know how guys are such visual creatures and all that jazz).

So we read Nasreen's Secret School: A True Story From Afghanistan by Jeanette Winter. Based on a true story, the book introduces us to Nasreen who lives with her grandmother in Herat, Afghanistan. The story begins by describing how Nasreen’s world changed the day the soldiers came and took hold of the city. Nasreen’s grandmother narrates the story and tells about how “dark clouds now hang over the city” and people live in fear of the Taliban. Soon after the soldiers came to town, Nasreen’s father was taken away. Not long after her father’s abduction, Nasreen’s mother snuck away to find him, leaving Nasreen alone with her grandmother in a place where women were forbidden to go outside if unaccompanied by a man. School was now forbidden for Nasreen and she sunk into a state of despair. She no longer sang, drew or smiled, nor did she utter a single word. After a time her grandmother heard whispers about a secret school for girls that was hidden behind a green gate in her neighborhood. Nasreen attends the school and discovers her voice through friendships and books of faraway lands.

After I finished reading the story, we poured our tea and sat, Indian-style, in a circle to begin our discussion. Usually, I aim a question about the book or story at each tea circle participant. This time, even the King fielded a few questions.

I asked the Gnome why Nasreen had stopped speaking, and what turned all the vegetables, houses, and gardens in her homeland into dull gray death. The Gnome seemed unsure, so her sister dropped a hint by making loud airplane noises and bomb sounds.

The Prophet asked what kind of tea we were drinking- she noted that it was "sweet". I explained that it was jasmine tea with a little honey. When I wandered through India, jasmine tea with honey seemed to greet me at every stop along the way- it's rich fragrance is hard to mistake.

The Prophet also enjoyed it when the King asked me a question to which I fumbled the reply. 

Milla used the pictures to answer a question about how Afghanistan and Herat looked different from our hometown. She noticed the snow-capped mountains, and how the girls there "wore pretty dresses".

I think the King enjoyed tea time. It's quickly become one of the kids' favorite parts of the day. If you've never tried to make room for a daily tea time, there are many reasons and many wise people to give them....

Afternoon tea (Homeschool World) 
Poetry tea time (Capture the Rowhouse)
Tea and poetry (Tinderbox)
Tea time studies (Homeschool Share)
Tuesday artist tea (Home Plate Fun)
The virtues of tea (Ambleside Online)
Afternoon tea and manners (Bramble Farms)
Preschool afternoon tea and snack (An Everyday Story)

Free printable tree and shrub nature notebook page.

Just right click and save to download this PDF version of my doodled notebook page.

TREE AND SHRUB OBSERVATION NATURE NOTEBOOK PAGE

Eastern gray squirrel nature study.

Squirrel (PDF)

While the Princess, the Gnome, and the Prophet worked on making a squirrel lapbook, the Eldest did some squirrel-watching in the backyard. He was thrilled to declare having witnessed a gray squirrel unburying a nut or acorn.

FREE SQUIRREL LAPBOOK MATERIALS
Cover Page: Squirrel collage craft (Learn Create Love)
Eastern gray squirrel tracks (Exploring Nature)
Squirrels and their habitats lapbook pages (Homeschool Share)
Tale of Squirrel Nutkin with copywork (Classical Writing)
Squirrel coloring page (Activity Village)
Squirrel field guide (Backyard Nature)
Squirrel acrostic (Activity Village)
Squirrel family worksheet (Backyard Nature)
Squirrel observation lesson plan (Exploring Nature)

Given the rather elevated level of some lapbook materials, the girls had some help and contribution from the male in the pack. We talked about our local squirrel species being the gray squirrel, a particularly suburban creature that buries its nuts separately. Then the Eldest created a page for his nature journal featuring the Eastern gray squirrel, or Sciurus carolinensis. 

David Abrams and the narrative shift.

Stopping to gaze upwards for a moment...

Caught up in a mass of abstractions, our attention hypnotized by a host of human-made technologies that only reflect us back to ourselves, it is all too easy for us to forget our carnal inherence in a more-than-human matrix of sensations and sensibilities. Our bodies have formed themselves in delicate reciprocity with the manifold textures, sounds, and shapes of an animate earth – our eyes have evolved in subtle interaction with other eyes, as our ears are attuned by their very structure to the howling of wolves and the honking of geese. To shut ourselves off from these other voices, to continue by our lifestyles to condemn these other sensibilities to the oblivion of extinction, is to rob our own senses of their integrity, and to rob our minds of their coherence. We are human only in contact, and conviviality, with what is not human.

David Abram, The Spell of the Sensuous: Perception and Language in a More-Than-Human World

The edge.

Road-tripping across gray Oklahoma.

Somewhere along the way in Oklahoma....

Oklahoma's endless horizons of gray fields and dull colors left me hungry for Alabama green. It seemed as if the vastness sucked the color from everything. 

Stopping for a restroom break near local reservations.

We talked about tornado shelters and sod houses- how many sod houses were built into hillsides and banks, improvised pioneer tornado shelters.

In Aline, OK, the Sod House Museum stands as a tribute to the sod houses built by early Western pioneers. I doodled a worksheet/handout on sod houses for the little people to use as a reference. Having ink pens and paper is always handy on long road trips.

Building a little house on the prairie (Missouri Botanical Gardens)
Houses made of dirt and mud (Gregory LeFever)
Homesteaders (National Parks Service)

Without any trees or valleys to shield us from the wind, we learned to hold tight to papers and bags as we walked around the way stations of Oklahoma. Honestly, we tend to be limited in our thinking about resources. For instance, playing a few rounds of Settlers of Cataan would not have provided us with any insight into living in a state like Oklahoma.

Fortunately, our imaginations stepped in where the books and games left off. Without trees or timber as a natural resource, the wind itself was harnessed and put to use. The landscape was dotted with wind farms. Micah and Milla shrieked to see such large pieces of metal barely moving in the prairie winds. The King and I turned up the music and sang along. Oklahoma burned on forever- the surprising dry, warm air sustained small drifts of what may once have been called "snow". 

We talked about the difference between "snow" and "slush". Then we talked about desolation- and what makes a place feel like home to us. We talked- and we didn't talk. Sometimes the little ones simply sang. Mostly, we waited for the long stretch of land known as "Oklahoma" to end. It seems I couldn't even muster a poem without invoking the word "empty".

Returning to an old love at 35.

My calves ache. Each time I lean forward, a burning sensation tunnels up from my ankle. The small muscles above my knees throb when I bend to pick up a book. My inner thighs feel like they felt after the first time I tried to do a split. 

But my body doesn't ache enough. You see, I can still walk and talk and laugh. I can empty the dishwasher painlessly. I can even car-dance, which is exactly what I did while driving home last night with Lady Gaga's "Do What You Want" blasting from the minivan speakers. 

My first two classes at Ballet Arts and Fitness brought back all the old love for ballet- for the way it impresses your body into the service of disciplined movement and measure. The way the sweat emerges- more like a sheen than a river- after barre. I've forgotten the technical names for the positions, and yet the flowering persists like an inarticulable memory in which I find myself moving without knowing exactly how this movement became so natural.

After ACL and MCL complete reconstruction in my right knee, after herniated discs and years in which even driving a car was impossible, being given the freedom to dance again is such a precious gift that I can't bring myself to stop doing it. So I danced in parking lot of Target with The Eldest. And I danced in the front yard as Angie watched from inside the house. And I danced in the living room as the little folks joined me. And I danced in the bathroom as I pondered whether to take a bath. 

Dancing is a language my body can speak. Unlike the lumbering gait of softball, those days when I stood anxiously in the outfield, hoping the ball would not come my way to find me tripping over anthills to catch it. I was never good at softball. My body didn't do "home runs" or "good throws". But whenever a melody wafted through the air, my mind grew silent while my body responded, beginning a conversation as unique and fascinating as the song itself. 

To be able to dance is to be able able to speak, again. It is to be able to have those conversations with pieces and tunes. It is to lose my own voice while discovering the facile articulation of the arms, legs, hips, ankles, and shoulders. It is something Rainer Maria Rilke might have called "sublime", if the taste for dance pulsed through his veins. It is a wonder and a mystery. And it is the place where I always find the missing pieces to the parts of the day that went awry. I am so very grateful.....

Snow-shoeing with our favorite little prophet.

 

The King adjusts the Prophet's snowshoe bindings.

While the Eldest rocked his ski school and the Gnome took a fantastic nap, the King and I decided to explore the area nearby on a little snowshoe journey with the ever-eager Prophet.

Ready to rumble.

The Prophet was well-prepared for the journey. Always alert to tiny details and incongruities, we found our rapid pace did not match her curious, plodding pace, which took every bud and tree into account. 

"Look!", the Prophet exclaimed, "It's an animal!". Rather than an animal, we saw what appeared to be the tracks of a snowshoe hare. Easy to miss, snowshoe hare tracks look much larger than what one might expect from a rabbit. This is because the snowshoe hare's massive feet give it the appearance of being a much larger creature friend.

A minor mishap along the way.

The golden ridged tree bark.

The King prepares to take a sniff of the bark.

The mysterious, sweet-smelling tree on our journey.

The Prophet brings a special flower she found to the King.

A sapling.

That evening, we all sat by the indispensable fire and talked about snowshoes. I felt a little too proud of myself when I whipped out the snowshoe hare handouts I'd created back in Tuscaloosa. It gave us a chance to talk about how humans learn from animal adaptations, in this case, the large foot of the snowshoe hare.

SNOWSHOE HARE FOR LITTLERS HANDOUT (1 page PDF)

SNOWSHOE HARE FOR MIDDLERS HANDOUT (3 pages PDF)

I found myself wondering about the myrrh-scented tree resin- and what kind of tree dared smell so sweet in a cold, montane woodland forest. My first impression led me to the belief that we had been in the stately presence of a ponderosa pine tree. Not just any ponderosa, mind you, but a yellowbellied ponderosa, one older than 120 years. Around this age, the ponderosas shed their dark bark and reveal that alluring, yellow bark that caught our attention.

The joys of slacking in Colorado.

 Max licks his lips and ups the chapping ante.

Off to ski school we went, all three little people outfitted and overheated in the backseat of the spaceship that rode like a hockey puck over a vaseline-smothered slip-and-slide. 

The King and I arrived at our destination- the Keystone Nordic Center, where we signed up for one hour of lessons and a day of rentals and skiing. Given the King's reluctance, it made sense that he should be the one who excelled in our class of fifteen other middle-aged first-timers.

The Prophet at the Nordic Center, where we rented snowshoes and nordic skiis.

The King wanted to understand why a girl like me, raised and bred to believe that downhill skiis were the only way to travel, found this itch to go nordic. I explained that all skiing started with nordic skiing, and I craved the flexibility of it. Imagine not having to wait in chair lift lines. Imagine a journey that takes you through uncharted, ungroomed areas, unlimited by the need for an incline. Imagine being able to remove your skiis, strap them to your back, hike a little ways, and then start again. Imagine not having to rent clunky, cumbersome ski boots. Imagine carting around lighter, less demanding gear. Imagine using skiis to EXPLORE an area rather than race down a slope for a few minutes.

"Okay, okay, enough," he said. "I get it. We're giving it a try."

A view from the Easy Does It trail.

After our hour-long lesson- in which we met some awesome, interesting folks from all over the world- we took a look at the Keystone Nordic Center Trail Map and chose what appeared to be the most scenic route, one which took us over creeks and through small woodlands. It was hard to keep up with the King. 

The view of Mount Guyot and Bald Mountain from the Nordic Center.

It was more taxing and difficult than I'd anticipated. And the pleasure was of a different sort. In downhill skiing, it's all about the brief exhiliration of feeling your skiis manuveur the mountain terrain at various speeds generated by a natural (often steep) inclince. The rush is hard to describe.

In nordic skiing, there is no fast rush- it's a long, drawn-out pleasure, the kind you get from those moments when you find a rhythm while hiking. Nordic allows you to enter a state of flow, if you are willing to let go. The reward is not the immediate gratification of downhill skiing, but a sustained state of movement.

We skiied the trails with our eyes on the clock, knowing that the little people would not understand any excuses from parents late to retrieve them from ski school. The King was lovely to watch, and I hid my envy at his ability, hoping, instead, that it would encourage him to try skiing nordic with me again. Because, of course, I'm not done until it's been mastered.

How we used houses to understand American geography.

As we traveled the United States, we discovered that local conditions determined the nuances in the lifestyles of early pioneers. For example, the settlers on the Great Plains often built sod houses or dugouts, while the settlers of the Rocky Mountains used prodigious local lumber to build log cabins.

So our study of states turned into a study of local resources and pioneer housing, a favorite topic since the Eldest recently finished Laura Ingalls Wilder's The Long Winter. Given the emergent and spontaneous nature of learning while roamschooling, I've found that the best preparation is a pen and paper combined with the audacity to overlook one's own lack of drawing skills just enough to draft a visual model. In the process, we discover what it is we can learn.

LOG CABIN HANDOUT (PDF)

The boy and his loom.

He has put his Christmas gift to good use weaving his first tapestry.

I asked him how weaving on his hand loom takes place. He answered immediately.

"Instead of weaving a needle, you weave the stick through. You turn it on one end- you get a shed- and then you push the shuttlecock through that to weave."

And so it goes. I woke up the other morning to find he had been weaving "since surnrise", to hear him describe it. ...

Befriending the handsome blue spruce.

The Eldest called this one almost immediately. "Hey mom," he said, as we strolled through the snow, "there's a blue spruce...."

 Blue spruce cones look like paper flowers.

The blue spruce is native to central Colorado, and it's fruit is a light chestnut-brown papery cone with scales slightly round-toothed at tip. The cones, for us, made the identification easiest.

A member of the pine family, Picea pungens is rather "pungent" and fragrant when the evergreen needles are crushed between fingers or clasped within tiny fists.

The needles are sharp pointed and extend at right angles all around twig. If misidentification occurs, it is usually mistaken for an Engelmann spruce.

Blue spruce identification (PDF)

TREES AND SHRUBS NATURAL JOURNAL PAGE (PDF)

The blue spruce's bark is light to dark gray and made-up of thin scales. You can tell the particular specimen is an older friend if wide, thick ridges are present. The wider, thick-ridged bark marks the sort of Wise Tree worth sitting and ponderizing beneath.

Fortunately, one of the girls slipped a blue spruce cone into her coat pocket and it managed to travel- unnoticed- all the way back to Alabama, where it now sits on the mantle.

Snowdreams.

Living in Alabama means that snow never ceases being infused with magic. Our road trip towards Colorado left even the King a little flushed with worry. "Kids," he said somberly, driving away from Denver, "I just want you to know that there might not be snow at Keystone."

"Oh, don't worry- there will be snow," I insisted.

The Prophet observed that there was no snow on the ground right now, and we only had one hour left to drive. But I pretended like something mysterious might account for the possibility of snow in our very near future. Of course, the likelihood seemed small, but it wouldn't help to focus on it. Nothing worse than glum, disappointed little people before the cause for disappointment has even been verified.

Once we got to Loveland Pass, the snow and ice covered the ground. It was late, so all we saw was the glare of white in the dark beyond. But we woke up in the morning to undulations and hills of snow.

It was more beautiful than I remembered. Even our exclamations sounded different, as if prolongated or preserved by the frozen water. Snow brings joy and wonder, as well as relief to parents who hope to keep the awe coming for their kids.

Story starters coloring page.

Story Starters (PDF)

Just something I made for our cross-country road trip- it kept Max journaling while Micah marked off each completed journal entry by coloring it in. 

A picnic with prairie dogs in Texas.

Perhaps unduly inspiring by Pat Metheny and Pat Lyles' musical suggestions, we stopped for lunch in the town of Wichita Falls, Texas. After scoring some tex-mex take-out, a nearby park- and the prospect of basking in sunshine- caught our eye. So everyone clambered out of the spaceship, sleeping bag in tow, to plop down on the prickly grass and fight with the Texas wind over our sauces and napkins.

A few feet away stood a prairie dog enclosure, where at least twenty prairie dogs took turns scurrying, singing, and then quickly scooting back into one of those many tunnels in the ground. 

This fellow could not stop singing a song to warn others of our arrival.

As a keystone species, the prairie dog is a critical little friend- one which other species in an ecosystem largely depend upon, such that if it were removed the ecosystem would change drastically. Keystone species usually have at least 170 other living species that depend on their existence. Though the prairie dog appears small and furry, it is a big player on the local scene.

While filling in his nature journal, Max discovered a few questions, most of them centered on whether or not the prairie dog burrows out of his designated park pen. The King and I assured Max that there must be netting to prevent this, since no city park would allow animals to run wild or loose on the nearby baseball field or playground. 

But Max didn't believe us. We laughed and reminded ourselves how much fun it is to have a wild, roving imagination. Max wandered off into the close field, claiming to observe trees and shrub specimens. 

"I like these tunnels," said Milla.

So you can imagine our surprise to hear him shout:

"Look Mom and Dad! Here are prairie dog tunnels! I TOLD you they would burrow their way out of that pen!"

Sure enough, the captive prairie dogs managed to create a vast network of burrows outside their designated city park habitat. No net could be placed deep enough to keep them from burrowing beneath it. The little folks marveled over the handsome prairie dog that peeped out from a burrow, only to disappear upon our approach.

Burrows outside the prairie dog pen.

Micah gazes across the field in search of more prairie dog heads.

Our picnic lunch taught us unexpected lessons about the dogged persistence of the burrowing prairie dog. Of course, Max deserves credit for opening our eyes to think outside the cage that is the box of conventional assumptions.

Life in a Prairie Dog Town printable

Prairie Dogs Handouts 
created and used on our journey.

On looking back, barely.

Honing our map skills on the road: Making a map of gnome-land.

 

Making our own maps begins with envisioning the terrain of a land we know very, very well- a land that does not limit us with its physical characteristics but, rather, allows us to freely imagine its topography and markings. Or, at least, so went my thinking when I made the Gnomeland Map activity for the kids.

I found they did a better job of designing their own worlds using other maps and travel brochures as a reference (rather than looking to mine as a model). We talked about the role of a key in providing a meaning for the symbols- and we learned to narrow down the materials we included based on their frequency. For example, if Gnomeland has one swimming pool, that might not warrant adding a swimming pool symbol to the key. 

The ladies enjoyed coloring my Gnomeland and then creating their own versions, for which I wrote in the words on the key. Micah's land included swarms of fairies and their fairy paraphenalia, while Milla's offered a "workshop" for Handy Manny. Go figure.

Or, do something better and go make your own version of Gnomeland. Alternately, you can print a few copies and pack it with colored pencils for your next road trip.

MAKE A MAP OF GNOMELAND (PDF)
Includes two sheets, my version of Gnomeland and a blank template.

Max's somewhat blurry version of Gnomeland.

Road-tripping across Arkansas.

On the drive to Colorado, we crossed Arkansas and stuck to I-40 all the way. First came the spectacular border crossing of the Mississippi River in West Memphis. Then came Forrest City and Little Rock, followed by Conway (where we stopped to spend the night), Russellville, Clarksville, Ozark, and Fort Smith. The little people colored their maps as I chanted out local wildlife to keep on their radar. 

GEOGRAPHY: Using maps as guides for questions

Using highway map to answer questions about Arkansas (PDF)
Key to highway map and lesson plan (PDF)
Make mystery picture postcards lesson plan (PDF)
Rivers and water resources lesson plan (PDF)
Rivers and counties map activity (PDF)
River boundaries key (PDF)

NATURE STUDY: The ivory-billed woodpecker

As we drove through Arkansas, I remembered having read about a Arkansas scientist's controversial ivory-billed woodpecker sighting back in 2005. A documentary film about "the God bird" sighting offered us a chance to hone our critical thinking skills- not to mention learning a little more about the fabulous ivory-billed and its close cousin, the pileated woodpecker, who lives in the woods near our Alabama yard.

Max colored the pileated woodpecker as I recapped the controversy over the sighting. Critical thinking skills were duly exercised. We explored the woodpecker's natural habitat, and debated whether climate change or human development had more to do with the woodpecker's demise. The never-fail Cornell ornithology hub offered a map listing possible encounters with ivory-billed woodpeckers since the 1940's and NOVA boasted a focused and thoughtful video on the sighting controversy. 

The sad part of our ivory-billed woodpecker exploration came later- a few days later as we sat by the fireplace, watching the embers, burning scissor-scraps of remaining vacation brochures. Laying on his stomach, pencil working its way through the college-ruled lines of his journal, Max turned to me and said, "Mom, all the stuff about the woodpecker makes me sad."

"Why?" I wondered.

"Because I don't know if I want to be a scientist anymore."

Not seeing the connection, I asked him to explain.

"Well," Max began, hesitating for just a second, "That one scientist in the video could not believe in the ivory-billed sighting- and he said it was because he was a scientist. And I felt sorry for him when he said that..."

"Hmmm.... but we can't always believe things just because we prefer to believe them, Max."

"Yeah, but if being a scientist means you can't believe in fantastic things anymore, I don't want to be a scientist. I want to believe in things that make me happy- things that might even be impossible." His voice trailed off as he leaned over his paper to write again. 

I tried to tell him that many scientists believe in fantastic, impossible things- that science is the poetry of the universe and life at the cellular level, that beauty need not be sacrificed to the dull standards of evidence-gathering. But I knew he wasn't really listening- his pencil never paused long enough on the page. And I knew, somehow, that his concern deserved more than a standard reply.

In retrospect, maybe I should have told him that the tension between hopeful imagination and rationalistic materialism exists in every field and career path- that this tension is a facet of every modern life more than a fact of the scientist's life. And that it is only while teaching my children that I find myself free from it....

Road-tripping through the great state of Texas.

 

TEXAS TRAVEL COLORING AND HANDOUTS (PDF)

A few printables brought along to enhance our long drive through Texas.

Max kept up with the towns and parks on his highway map.

I did my best to co-navigate with the King.

Stopping along the road to stretch and poke ourselves with tumbleweed.

“I have said that Texas is a state of mind, but I think it is more than that. It is a mystique closely approximating a religion. And this is true to the extent that people either passionately love Texas or passionately hate it and, as in other religions, few people dare to inspect it for fear of losing their bearings in mystery or paradox. But I think there will be little quarrel with my feeling that Texas is one thing. For all its enormous range of space, climate, and physical appearance, and for all the internal squabbles, contentions, and strivings, Texas has a tight cohesiveness perhaps stronger than any other section of America. Rich, poor, Panhandle, Gulf, city, country, Texas is the obsession, the proper study, and the passionate possession of all Texans.”

John Steinbeck, Travels With Charley

The kids chased tumbleweed across the hard, dry dirt of Texas.

The sunsets turned the arid landscape into a rum butter pie.

I imagined the sharp sting of scrub-brush scratching summer-bared legs.

The lonesome echo of acoustic guitars left us shivering in the palpable sunset.

New Year's road-trip: Going through ten different states in ten days.

En route to our mountain vacation, we drove through a total of 10 states. Courtesy of the tourism bureaus in each state, the little folks and I walked away with bags of information about American history, geography, geology, economic development, and culture. 

OUR TEN STATES

Missississippi
Tennessee
Arkansas
Oklahoma
Kansas
Colorado
New Mexico
Texas
Louisiana
Alabama

On the way, the King and I learned a few lessons about long road trips, teachable moments, and the importance of multiple good playlists. The take-homes:

Pee outdoors when possible.
Stopping at established restrooms involves walking through gas stations full of candy and glitter intended to seduce your kids (and you) into forking over a small chunk of change in return for some junk. Also, imagine all the germs and viruses you can avoid by just peeing in the woods with the song of a sparrow to lighten your load. So pack that toilet tissue and vow to find nature-made restrooms on your road trip. By the way, snow isn't a problem. In case you haven't noticed, kids will pee anywhere. It's their adult companions that crave the water wasted by those porcelain thrones we call toilets.

Nature journals.
Whenever we stopped at a rest area or even along a scenic piece of road, Max wandered around with his nature journal and made notes. The King provided the latitude and longitude as Max canvassed a brief area for local birds, trees, plants, grasses, and insects. Then, when we got back into the car, he flipped through his field guides and tried to identify each living thing while journaling them into a context (i.e. climate, geography, etc.).

Geocache kits.
Simple as having an iphone, a compass, and a geocaching log. If you have a signature stamp, bring it along as well. There are geocaches aplenty all over these fine United States. It makes a great excuse to pee in the woods for the more inhibited family members.

Printed maps and colored pencils.
Oh the things you can do with just a few maps and pencils. Encourage the writers to list all the towns they pass through on the map and then turn them into a narrative poem. Show little ones how to draw a blue circle to indicate a lake (and then mark them as you pass) or a red square to indicate a barn or a black dot to indicate a cow. Then let them make their own map adding what they observe along the way.

Read-aloud chapter books.
Long car trips are a great time to read that awesome book to a captive audience. Who needs illustrations when the scenery keeps catching your eye? I shared A Finder's Magic by Phillipa Pearce with the crew, while Max read chapters from the original Winne the Pooh by A. A. Milne aloud to the girls.

Water bottles.
Skip the juice boxes and other sugar-laden laxatives- water is the best possible drink for the road. It saves big folks the frustration of spills, sticky luggage, and endless restroom stops. Kids tend to drink water when they are thirsty, while they will often drink juices to satisfy hunger or a craving for sugar. Keep it simple. Milk at night and water during the day.

Apples and clementines.
Bring along washed apples and seedless clementines. The little folks like to peel their own in our family. As for the apples, what could make a better all-around snack?

Scissors, glue sticks, and white drawing paper.
Using all those fantastic resources procured at each stateside rest area or travel office, cut out pictures of landmarks or places in each state and pass them (along with glue stick and paper) to the little people to make their own state-based collages. Alternately, let them tell stories by cutting their own pictures and pasting them to white paper (reimaged as a blank storyboard). Then, when you make your next stop, tell everyone that he or she has to pick up all the paper scraps around their chair and put them in the trash bag if they wish to "get off the bus", so to speak. Consider cleaning up as a ticket (a get-out-of-van-free-card). 

White cardstock and stamps.
Make your own postcards using glue sticks and travel brochure cut-outs. Let the kids write a message on their creations and then use your iphone to look up addresses. Put on a stamp and drop them off at the next post office box you see. 

Good music and playlists.
There are so many ways to tie the music to the state you are visiting. For example, some cities are mentioned in songs. Travel brochures will mention which musicians hail from their state, so add a few locals to your playlists. Use the songs as segues for discussions about history and culture. Or just find a few favorite sing-alongs. We use Spotify rather than mp3s or ITunes because we can find any song in world and enjoy it without having to "own" it. You can also find lots of stories and songs for kids. 

Poems and inspirations.
Find beautiful words to add to the mix when whimsy is conspicuously lacking. The little people may or may not show interest, but it will probably stir your soul just right. Keep your own journal of impressions and observations. Everything you see becomes part of the story you discover together. 

In awe of the quaking aspen.

A beautiful aspen stand down the street from us in Keystone.

It's hard not to fall in love with an aspen. A man working at the thrift store in Frisco told me that aspens are the only deciduous trees that grow at the high elevations in much of Summit County, Colorado.

Quaking aspens, also called trembling aspens, are named for their leaves. Flat, heart-shaped leaves attach to branches with lengthy stalks called petioles, which quake or tremble in light breezes. Quaking aspens regularly grow in dense, pure stands, creating a stunning golden vista when their leaves change color in the fall. 

 

 

A face smiles back at me and Max from the bark.

 

Aspen are often identified by their silvery, white bark. But this bark is spectacular on many levels- it carries out photosynthesis, a task usually reserved for tree leaves. In winter, when other deciduous trees are mostly dormant, quaking aspens are able to keep producing sugar for energy.

Thanks to the way in which organic leaf matter becomes richer soil, some of the most beautiful wildflowers can be found underneath the aspen trees in the spring and summer. Deer, moose, and elk seek shade from aspen groves in summer. These same animals consume bark, leaves, buds, and twigs of quaking aspen throughout the year. Ruffed grouse is especially dependent on quaking aspen for food and nesting habitat. 

People use quaking aspen for fuel and to make paper, particle board, furniture, and hamster bedding.

A few leaves left frozen like candies on a aspen sapling.

The stunning aspen is not in any danger these days- not unless you count the likes of the pocket gopher, which feed on roots and seem to be one of the few creatures able to curtail the growth of aspen groves. The other major inhibitor of aspen growth is fire suppression. Quaking aspens require intense sunlight to grow, but when other trees spring up in the forest, aspen stems are shaded out. Fire reduces canopy cover and allows for the continued growth of quaking aspens. While the root system will survive with little care, proper management of the stems aboveground is important, since both people and wildlife make use of the trees.

Quaking Aspen Notebook Page (PDF)

More to chase:

Quaking aspen plant guide (USDA)
Quaking aspen handbook page (NDSU Agriculture)
Quaking aspen forests of the Colorado Plateau (Land Use History of North America)

A new year again.

We watched the fireworks explode from the balcony of Sts. John in Keystone.

The little people shrieked and cavorted.

May this year surprise us with its beauty and grace.

Snow-shoeing in White River National Forest.

The day was so beautiful- with at least four inches of freshly fallen snow- that we decided only a national forest could quell our appetites. So we drove a couple of miles off Montezuma Road to White River National Forest for some snow-shoeing.

Snake River gurgled alongside the road. Finally, we pulled off to get a closer look. Hot darn!

How could we say "no" to such a scene?

Fortunately, Ratpaw showed up in his rental car with his brand new snowshoes and some chocolate in his pockets. "Why don't we walk along Snake River?" he chirped. And so we did.

The King led the way; he just couldn't help himself.

But the trail he was following was not the one I preferred (not at the moment, at least, when HE was leading us down it).

So, I went my own way, keeping watch on my snow-shoeing comrades from behind the branches.

Snake River's water was that blue-green that always reminds me of limestone quarries or rocks nearby. I watched the guys traipse through the thick mounds of snow, only the crunching sound of their snowshoes pressing into that crisp outer layer of ice surrounding the powder.

Just before the official trail ended, our paths crossed again.

The only trail left to follow was the one left by this creature friend, whom Ratpaw took to be a snowshoe hare or perhaps a fox.

We witnessed such beautiful things- frost-covered fringes hanging along the banks of Snake River.

But the costly hours of ski school ticked away...

And Ratpaw got into a fight with a small, frozen shrub.

Sometimes falling is the best way to end things.

Stunning sunburst lichen.

Going for a morning walk in the snow the other day, we came across the coolest lichen on a rock near an aspen grove. So orange it burned my eyes- and yet, I could not look away. Off went the gloves so I could reach down and touch it; nothing crumbled away. Out came the camera to snap a quick photo to help me identify this beauty later in the week.

Now, I am trying to identify my rust-hued lichen friend, and the process (as anyone who has befriended a lichen can acknowledge) is anything but easy. I figured this lichen friend must be fairly popular in alpine zones, since other hikers also discovered it in late July on their descent from South Arapaho Peak. A similar orange lichen also exists in the mountains of Yellowstone, the Austrian Alps, and throughout the Rocky Mountains, including Moraine Park. What does this lichen need to grow? Is is the altitude?

Maybe not. Other nature lovers have stumbled across this lichen in various parts of Antarctica, including Cormorant Island and Cape Royds. So altitude or zone alone will not answer my questions. 

Leave it to Jeff Mitton to come up with the interesting stuff. It seems my lichen friend is an elegant sunburst lichen, or Xanthoria elegans. The key to the sunburst lichen seems to be nitrogen.

Jeff explains that X. elegans is "highly tolerant of water-soluble forms of nitrogen, and this tolerance influences its distribution and abundance". He then goes on to explain why this matters and why it is stupendously cool:

Mammal urine contains urea, a molecule containing two atoms of nitrogen, and their feces also contain nitrogen. Birds release uric acid, a molecule containing four atoms of nitrogen, in a thick white paste that reveals nest sites on rocky cliffs.

The elegant sunburst lichen thrives at the burrow entrances of small mammals and conspicuously illuminates sentry posts where they sit vigilantly watching their territory. Orange lichens also identify hunting perches of birds and grow in profusion in seabird colony nesting sites.

The elegant sunburst lichen alerts naturalists to long-term haunts of small mammals. At the Notch, the highest point of Trail Ridge Road, extensive scree slopes drape from the road down into Forest Canyon. Pika alarm calls can be heard, but pikas are devilishly difficult to spot. However, bright orange lichens mark entrances to burrows and sites where pikas have surveyed their world for centuries and perhaps even millennia.

Sit quietly, a respectable distance away from the telltale lichen and you will exhaust the pika’s timidity and patience. Pikas will soon resume haying, or gathering leaves and stems to accumulate a hay pile, the larder that will get them through the coming winter.

Elegant sunburst lichens also reveal places where yellow-bellied marmots linger and do what comes naturally. With binoculars, I have watched marmots sitting on cliffs high above Forest Canyon, enjoying a majestic vista from a sentry post marked by brilliant lichens.

The elegant sunburst lichen has an extraordinary range. It grows from wave-splashed marine shores to the peaks of high mountains and from the Arctic to the Antarctic. It grows on all continents except Australia.

Xanthoria elegansis currently recognized as a single species, but it varies markedly from place to place. In the Canadian Arctic its colors and the form and abundance of its reproductive structures vary regularly among habitats, suggesting that what we call the elegant sunburst lichen will eventually be recognized as several species.

Its extensive geographic range and its conspicuous color attracted the attention of lichenologists, archeologists and historians who use lichens to estimate the ages of rock surfaces. Lichens grow slowly, at relatively regular rates, so a lichen’s size can be used to estimate its age and to make inferences about the duration that its foundation has been exposed. An elegant sunburst lichen takes one to two decades to become established and after that its radius increases by about 0.5 millimeters per year, or an inch in 50 years.

Who was the remorseless culprit who fertilized the rock in Moraine Park, encouraging brilliant lichens to grow? The likely suspects include least chipmunks, golden-mantled ground squirrels and Wyoming ground squirrels.

 I can't wait to share this with the kids and return to our elegant sunburst lichen friend in the hopes of ferreting out what mammal lives nearby.

Ice skating at Lakeside Village.

Max finished ski school just in time to join us for a family expedition to the Keystone Lake ice skating and ice hockey rink at Lakeside Village.

We parked half a mile from the rink- and took our time wandering over to the entrance.

The stroll gave us time to take in the golden sunset spilling over the ice.

Time to take it all in.....

After the usual rigamaroles involving skates, gloves, tickets, and rentals, the five family members were ready for their debut on the gorgeous Colorado ice.

We found some makeshift "walkers" on the ice- all three little people immediately picked a walker of their own to help navigate the slippery new terrain. Micah (on the left) pushed off right away as the King (in the center) guided Milla on her walker and Max (to the right) made his way, entranced, towards the hockey rink.

Micah's hop-skip-jump skating.

Max quickly left his walker behind...

The ice and all the colors of sunset blew my mind.

Micah held on to the walker but insisted on charting her own path.

First towards the Christmas tree....

then towards the mountains...

As the sun began to burn the sky, we marveled over the girls' decision to abandon their walkers. 

The King stood by, close enough to help dust off bottoms bruised by a fall.

Milla the gnome astounded us with her careful yet steady learning curve.

Milla on her own.

The sun set and left us only with dusk. 

On our way back to the spaceship, we stopped by a chocolate shop for a warm cappucino and some chocolate. The red cherries on Milla's cheeks looked delicious.