Alina's Adventures

Darryl Patton, "The Southern Herbalist", shares his plant knowledge in Hoover tomorrow.

Tomorrow afternoon, you have the chance to learn about wild foods and foraging with Darryl Patton, "The Southern Herbalist". Darryl will take kids and parents on a fascinating tour of Southern plants  that can serve as food and medicines. 

"Wild Plants: Earth's Free Feast and Pharmacy with Darryl Patton" will be held on January 30th from 2 to 4 pm in a classroom at Hoover Tactical,(yes, it's a firearms store, which of course makes me a little uneasy)near Hoover, Alabama. But I'm going to trust the sponsors, including Sheriff Mike Hale and Fresh Air Family's Prepared, Not Scared safety/survival courses for kids and adults.

The cost is $10 for members and $15 for non-members. But I think the experience is worth it. Here's why...

Mr. Tommie Bass, Lookout Mountain's herbalist

The Southern Herbalist has learned from those who came before him. Darryl's book, Mountain Medicine: The Herbal Remedies of Tommie Bass, takes us through the life and mind of a man who grew. There is a wonderful 

I first met Tommie Bass as a result of several people telling me stories of the ‘Herb Man’ up in Leesburg not far from where I lived. It seemed as if I were constantly running into people who either knew of him, or had family who knew and had been treated by this white-haired gentleman. Reading about him on the front page of the Wall Street Journal in 1985 had also served to pique my curiosity.

My first trip to his home was one which I will never forget. It also served to show me a little of the extent to which he is known and respected in his community. Even without an address to go by, and I had no trouble finding his house. All I had to say was that we were looking for Tommie Bass, the Herb Man, and people immediately told us how to find him.

For the next two hours, I was treated to fascinating stories of Leesburg and Lookout Mountain in the first half of this century, stories of herbal treatments, and even a couple of songs played on the French Harp. It turned out to be the most interesting day of my life.

I found Tommie to be the most humble and guileless person I had ever met. There is nothing pretentious about this man. What you see on one visit is the same person you see on subsequent return trips. His overriding concern is to bring some ease to his fellow man. He is not out to make a dollar at the expense of others’ ailments. He is a seeker of neither glory nor fame.

Mr. Tommie Bass

Among Tommie's remedies:

 For sinus trouble, he may recommend drinking a tea of Wild Cherry Bark or inhaling the steam from a boiling pot of ‘Rabbit Terbaker.’ Overweight folks will be told the wonders of Chickweed and Queen Anne’s Lace. “They’ll do the trick!”

Women suffering from what Tommie calls ‘Women’s Trouble’ need to know there is nothing like Red Maple, Black Cohosh or Squawvine tea. Pokeroot is good for the itch and, “Of course,” says Tommie, “Yellowroot will cure stomach ulcers.”

To hear Tommie tell it is to know that Wild Cucumber Tree bark and Prickly Ash are the most wonderful things in the world for arthritis.

Kids and adults can prepare for this event by listening to Mr. Bass talk about mountain life and herbs right here. I think hearing his voice adds another layer of value to his words.

Darryl shares thoughts on Eastern Red Cedar/Juniper. 

For those familiar with Euell Gibbon's incredible Stalking the Wild Asparagus, I can honestly say it changed my son's life when he received it as a gift from our dear neighbors, Doug and Carol Brooks. Now you can sign up for a free newsletter combining Euell and Darryl's wisdom, as well as enjoy archived issues online.

Other great resources and online treasures from Darryl include:

A-Z Herbal References Guide, with a heavy focus on Alabama
"How to forecast weather by nature" 
"The history of using sassafras"
"Stalking the Wild Day Lily," an adventure
The mysteries of rabbit tobacco (Pseudognaphlium obtusifolium)
"Beautyberry, herbal bug repellent", one the Eldest will love
Darryl's list of links

A stunning secret garden in Holt.

It begins with flowers out front.

Earlier this summer, the King snuck the kids to visit the home of a lovely Holt couple with brilliant green thumbs. 

The knockout roses demanded attention. None of the half-hearted blooms you find in my untended yard. 

"Flower faces", we call them.
Because-- what else?

Gnome wanders among snapdragons.

I remember the childhood feeling of being dwarfed by plants. Wandering through paths which grew like whorls in the bark of an old oak tree. Nature's natural lines are curvy, as, perhaps, ours should be.

Lettuce and maples and wonder.

The pond.

Lilypads... and koi hiding underneath.

Roses hold the dew like cheeks hold childhood's tears.

A testament to what can be done in a tiny yard.

I admire this couple so much for what they made after the tornado's wreckage. What they cultivated and tended despite the damage. So many days when I wish I had a green thumb- or, at least, the persistence and dedication to put a garden higher on the list of things to honor in life. 

The Eldest came home with a tiny stalk of a crown of thorns plant which has developed into a happy, boisterous, multi-stalk crown of thorns sitting beside our front door. Every time he waters it, I think of how our lives have been enriched with blossoms handed along by others. I will always be grateful for these small gifts that grow into something bigger.

Yellow heirloom beans.

The Eldest's organic garden was his final project for the "official school year". As unschoolers, the unofficial year continues through the summer and we digest our experiences, camps, field trips, vacations, and activities as we would digest and discuss an epic tome by Charles Dickens. In a sense, they are equivalent.

Back to the garden, growing veggies organically is a challenge because it requires you to take the right route (as opposed to the easy route) to solve challenges and issues which arise. The wonderful part is that it allows us to study ecology in action- to learn from experience how every input affects the world around us, how every pesticide destroys more than we intended to destroy. The parallels to modern war are endless. The lessons in persistence and also endless- as are the opportunities to learn from more seasoned gardeners and older, wiser neighbors.

The Eldest used Botanical Interests' Bean Bush Pencil Pod Yellow Heirloom Seeds purchased at Manna Grocery in Tuscaloosa. He planted the bush yellow beans early this spring and by late April or early May, they started to flower. Stunning, delicate white hooded flowers.

Delicious Phaseolus vulgaris

Early this week, he harvested a basket of yellow beans (leaving a few bushes untouched because he is "saving seeds" for next year). 

Prophet carefully splits open a yellow bean to see the "peas". She was relieved that the colors lined up.

Gnome declares them delicious.

Tossed in salt, olive oil, parsley, and thyme and then broiled at 400 until soft. The Eldest- who likes to say he doesn't eat vegetables- polished off half the bowl of his own-grown beans. 

And then today, after brunch with Bunica and Ratpaw, we harvested another handful. I'm thinking about adding them to a summer stew with squash, dill, carrots, and a dollop of sour cream.

Watching the blackberry shrub: A lesson in patience.

Our first blackberries are popping up near the fence. Last year, when we planted the shrub, the kids were disappointed:

"No blackberries! Not even flowers."

Then then question:

"Why should we water something that isn't making berries?"

Finally, Prophet's accusation:

"I think blackberry bushes are lazy."

Patience, I urged. Patience. To myself as well as them.

This year, the kids were delighted when the blackberry shrub came to life in April. Her fringed leaves emerged a vivid green.

The Eldest used twine to situate her along the fence. I'm not sure how he knew to do it, only that one morning I wandered outside to find the string scaffolding gently supporting our bush.

In the first blush of May, ten delicate white flowers blossomed.

Prophet couldn't believe the lazy blackberry was finally "doing something".

We spent one morning sketching the leaves and blossoms. Before long, the white petals fell into the grass leaving behind stiff, light brown tendrils. 

"But mommy, those aren't blackberries," Gnome asserted confidently. "Those are greenberries."

I told her we needed to watch a little longer- to observe and make notes. The blackberries were not finished changing. 

She paused and nodded. It made sense to expect the waiting wasn't finished. It made sense to expect more marvels from our little blackberry shrub given the marvels that we'd already witnessed in the span of five weeks.

We wait and watch, our desire for immediate gratification up-ended by the simple marvel of ten blackberries fruiting in the yard. Nature study teaches us how to tend plants and understand ecosystems, but also how to wait for a fruit to ripen. How to silence the buzz of schedules and demands in the face of slower fruitings.

In clover.

The music.

The things that touched us on our nature excursions this week.

Wood sorrel.

Another gorgeous roadside creature with which we communed.

Baby wild bunnies born at a friend's house down the street.

The Eldest took a 10-minute video of the bunny with his camera.

Because what could be cooler than bunnies?

 Except maybe the secret inside the potting station...

..discovered by the potter himself.

He'd been jotting down notes for the past week or so about bird comings and goings to this oven bird nest and imagine his excitement when he bustled in the house yesterday hooting and hollering about a fledgling in the grass.

This was no ordinary fledging, mind you. By the look on his face, I'd say this was a kindred fledging who resented a world unfolding prior to coffee intake.

But also a precious fledging whom I feared disturbing- a first day out of the nest sort of fledging.

So we journaled about how it might feel to be a fledging on our first day out of the nest. Wove in threads of fact as well as fiction. Added his name to our Knowing Nature notebooks. And then realized how many tiny creatures are experiencing first-day-out in this mindblowingly beautiful season known as spring.

Fancy fungi.

The best things are found in clover right now. Clover and good percussion. Enjoy.

I'll be in clover
I'll be in clover soon
I'll be in clover
I'll be in clover with you

Tomatoes, crusty bread, and feta cheese: A poetic combination.

And the truth is the first girl I ever kissed, tasted like tomatoes.

And I know this, because the second girl I ever kissed tasted like pepper.

It wasn’t unpleasant.

It’s just that I was expecting tomatoes.

 (Excerpt from Koyczan's "Tomatoes")

A poetic feast of tomato poems...

"Cherry Tomatoes" by Sandra Beasley
"Tomatoes" by Shane Koyczan
"Ode to Tomatoes" by Pablo Neruda (plus riotous illustration)
"September Tomatoes" by Karina Borowicz
A shape poem variant on a tomato poem by Victor Hugo
"Patio Tomatoes" by Krista Lukas
"Tomatoes" by Stephen Dobyns
"Roma" by Matthew Dickman
"After Tomato Picking" by Maria Garcia Teutsch
"Fried Green Tomatoes" by Pris Campbell
"Diary from a Tomato Cannery, 1912" by Sandy Solomon
"Tomato Hornworm", a great teaching poem
"I Used to Like Tomatoes" by Flora Veit Wild

Image source: Gathering Books

The hoopla over hornworms.

Oh hornworm, if you aren't the most bizarre creature to squish through the garden...

Of course, it was the eldest who discovered and caught the hornworm. And it was the Eldest who refused to put this creature in the trash can, choosing instead to place him in the magnolia tree out front.

Notice the pink horn at the front? Evil gorgeous tomato eating creature.

Gardening with a few words from Wendell Berry.

Excerpts from Wendell Berry's poem, "The Farm", circa 1991.

Work done in gratitude,
Kindly, and well, is prayer.
You did not make yourself,
Yet you must keep yourself
By use of other lives.
No gratitude atones
For bad use or too much.

This is not work for hire.
By this expenditure
You make yourself a place;
You make yourself a way
For love to reach the ground.

The way a swiss chard sprout can expand one's sense of time.

Swiss chard sprouts

Seeing comes before words. But Annie Dillard is right to claim that words preserve the image of what we have seen.

It is the words- the story they weave- that turns a token into a treasure. Unlike the commonness and plenitude of the token, the treasure is unique and captivating enough to warrant a hiding place. We bury it carefully in a special place, devoting countless hours to creating the map that divines how we get there, ensuring that we are the only ones who will ever get there.

How blackberry fruits come to fruition

The story of our love and hope is the treasure map. As with any such map, the amount of time and passion spent in creating it reveals the value of what lies beneath the ineffable.

So I find myself staring at the tiny swiss chard sprouts, made crazy with joy at the scent of tomato stalks on my fingertips, looking for words to map the daily comings and growings of our garden. Only the call of the mourning dove comes to mind.

No one ever warned me about the enchantments of a sweet pea vine.

Sweet pea at dusk.

The sweet pea was the last flower I expected to see in our garden this year. Somehow, the delicate Lathyrus odoratus wears the mantle of the most unanticipated marvel- the beauty made all the brighter for being unharmed by expectation.

Add to this the fact that we did everything wrong (waiting until the weather was warm before planting the seeds directly in the soil) and I'm amazed that we get to see anything at all... But the tiny plants continue to flirt with their teepee... their tendrils beginning to curl and reach out.

"Treat it like a found poem," I urge the Eldest. He weighs the possibility of laying claim to treasures discovered by other pirates. 

"No," he replies, "I'm going to find my own found poem in another plant." Suit yourself, I think, remembering those days fondly, the ones where every secret worth saving needed to be entirely my own.

The surprise of the pea flowers enchants, keeps me from writing, the language of shoots and bulbs creeping into dialogue between characters. I need a technical distraction or some magical means of refocusing.

Sweet peas grow in full sun to partial shade and require rich, well-drained soil. A local green thumb I know warned me that sweet peas are heavy feeders, doing best with a few organic fertilizer treatments during the growing season.  

Word also has it that deadheading encourages a longer season of bloom.

Pea Shoots brochure, filled with delicious recipes
on how to cook those splendid pea shoots

3 FREE LAPBOOKING PAGES ON GARDEN PEAS

A SEASON IN THE LIFE OF A PEA (1 narrative bi-fold)

SWEET PEA FLOWER AND VINES (2 bi-folds with diagrams)

The sex lives of squash plants.

Early squash flower buds from late May.

You can't sow good seeds without learning a little bit about the birds and bees. Planning our tiny little backyard garden demands delving into the details, knowing, for example, about the intrictate breeding needs of tomatoes, cucumbers, blueberries, and squash plants. 

I'll confess that I left the reproductive aspects of a few heirlooms up to the Eldest earlier this spring, when we plotted the locations of each vegetable and fruit.

In so doing, I began my own mysterious introduction to squash plant's reproduction. The first blossom emerged in its large, flamboyant yellow manner on a balmy morning about a week ago. Early this week, another blossom joined the first one.

Squash flowers today around 11 a.m., already folded tight.

Seeing the glory of the squash blossom requires a bit of self-discipline, since the flowers open early to lure the early-rising insects, like the squash bee, that pollinate them.

What's so fantastic about the squash plant is that you don't really have to worry too much about setting the ambiance for a love affair. Squash plants have blossoms of both sexes on the same plant. From the golden grandeur of the flower alone, it's hard to tell male from female. 

That's why sipping the morning coffee with your squash plants is one way to discover the secrets of squash sex. When the flowers are open, luring their pollinators, you can see either a female pistil or a sturdy column of fused male stamens.

A folded male blossom.

Late risers need not despair, for there is another way to tell the male from the female, one that does not require gazing into its lovely flower face. Males are attached to long, slender stems that allow them to open their faces wide in almost any direction.

Our still-growing female squash flower and her lovely ovary.

Females, on the other hand, are more limited in their movement. Their stems are shorter and boast a small, ovwl nodule or bump between the stem and flower base, containing the ovary. This bump will become a squash if the flower is pollinated.

Barbara Damrosch describes how and why one should feast upon stuffed male squash blossoms for lunch:

Why males? Females are just as edible and stuffable. But for maximum squash production I leave the girls alone, along with just enough boys for the bees to gather pollen from and transfer it to the girls.

Given the high frequency of male blossoms on our plant, I have a feeling the time for harvesting is close at hand. 

Encounters with insects: The eastern lubber grasshopper, a staple of southern childhood.

Prophet skipped into the house, screaming my name, begging to borrow my phone so she could take a picture of the bugs she'd found on a bucket in the yard. In a flash, she was gone, sucked from the room like a helium balloon from an open car window. 

Upon her return, I recognized the grasshoppers of my younger years. I remember them as having a distinct, almost rubbery smell. My childhood summers were filled with these sleek black grasshoppers and their sportscar-orange stripes.

I also remember the way they oozed a white, creamy substance all over the hot cement street in front of our house. There was a time when dead bugs demanded mass burials and specially-tailored funeral rites.

EASTERN LUBBER GRASSHOPPER (Romalea microptera)

Now, Prophet asks me to marvel over them as if for the first time. I find myself hating the way marvel has assumed a more cerebral hue- the hunger to give it a name, to find out what it eats, where it lives, why it lingers on buckets and metal pipes. 

The eastern lubber grasshopper is limited to the southeastern and south central portion of the United States. The northern boundary is central North Carolina west through southern Tennessee, Georgia, Alabama, Mississippi, Louisiana, Arkansas, to Texas. 

Our eastern lubbers are juveniles, still too small to boast of wings and more variegated coloration. 

We learn that its wings are purely ornamental- too short for flight, running less than half the length of the abdomen. Also, that our friends cannot fly; they move by jumping short distances. Their range of motion is narrow and their style rather clumsy and slow. The eastern lubber's name reflects this clumsy movement. “Lubber” is derived from an old English word “lobre” which means lazy or clumsy. To call someone a lubber is to brush them with the tar of being big, clumsy, oaf-like, and rather dull-witted. If you've ever heard a sailor call someone a "landlubber", now you understand why it wasn't a compliment.

Eastern lubber is one of only four species in the family Romaleidae found north of Mexico, but there are many other species in South America, and many are winged and agile, so although some other species in this family are called lubbers, the “lubber” designation is not appropriate for the entire family.

Since eastern lubbers are known to prey on garden plants and flowers, many people make use of toxic sprays to keep the lubbers at bay. Fortunately, there are wiser solutions. If you find yourself swimming in a sea of lubbers, pot a few oleanders and place them in strategic locations to deter pests. Oleander is poisonous to eastern lubbers- but eastern lubbers don't know this, and will usually die immediately after consuming the flower or its leaves.

EASTERN LUBBER PRINTABLES

Eastern lubber fact sheet (University of Florida Extension)
Eastern lubber handout (Southeastern University)
Lubber grasshoppers (Fresh From Florida)

The sight of a strange bud.

"Seeing comes before words," wrote John Berger, as if the words themselves paled in comparison to the sight.

And so the sight of a strange bud thrills me- knowing it's only a matter of hours before the word "insatiable" blooms alongside the world "flower".

The saga of the baby cardinal continues.

Because Lauren needed to know- and because I understand why she needed to know so urgently- I wanted to offer a little update on our cardinal chick friend.

The Eldest continued to keep close tabs on the nest. Yesterday, he heralded us with the good news- "The chick sprouted pin feathers! Come see!" 

Sure enough, the thick hard texture of pin feathers lined the outside of the baby cardinal's wings. And the wide-open beak, voracious, begging to be fed.

You can really get a good glimpse of the pin feathers as layered along the wing here. Amazing, too, how his head is filling out with a thicker, dark skin, the preface to feathers.

The continued growth and burgeoning size of our baby chick friend suggests that a mother is still nurturing him. So far, so good. We're keeping our hopes up here at the tiniest, most frugal castle in the world.

Saving your seeds: A great tradition to pass on to children.

A visit to the Petaluma Seed Bank (from Modern Farmer)

The Kind and the Eldest have been discussing saving the seeds from our heirloom plants this year. I found myself thinking it was a lovely family tradition to hand along- one of those that lasts longer than a scrapbook or a photo album. 

If you'd like to start planning to do the same, note that there are always extras that makes better gifts than objects left stashed in a drawer. Unless you own loads of acres, you probably don't need 100 seeds.

On my dream-list of things-to-do would be starting a community seed lending library open to all members of a community, including those who can't afford the leisure time to start full-time gardens. It would act as a resource to encourage good gardening practices and pass on local heirlooms and traditions to those who lack time or land or access.

 Any and every question about seed saving can be answered in the free booklet and seed saving instructions provided by SeedSave. Fine Gardening also features a post on collecting and storing seeds. Here's more to help you on your way....

Seed paper gift pots and tags (Happy Hour Project)
Brown paper seed packet business cards tutorial (Crafting A Green World)
Glassine seed packets with free labels (Martha Stewart)

FREE PRINTABLE SEED PACKETS

Seeds From My Garden packet (Country Living)
Simple seed envelopes (joy ever after)
Old-fashioned seed packets with illustrations (Victoria Magazine)
Origami seed packets (Caustic Musings)
Scrapbook paper seed packet project (Vale Design)
Nostalgia-infused seed packets (Content in a Cottage)
Quoteable seed packet (Vale Design)
Large seed envelopes with blank label (Maggie Wang)
Large seed envelopes with planting instructions (Maggie Wang)
Printable herb seed packet labels (Just Dawnelle)

FREE PRINTABLE SEED PACKETS FOR YOUNG FOLKS

Cute, colorful seed packets (Keeping Life Creative)
Ladybug seed packets (Cafe Garden)
Alice in Wonderland seed packets (Cafe Garden)

Using wood ash to fertilize your veggie garden soil.

We save up our winter fireplace ashes in a tin trash pail. The Eldest claims "it's a Roman thing" because ancient Roman scientists and scholars documented the value of returning ash to the land.

In the 18th century, the benefits of ash-derived potash, or potassium carbonate, became widely recognized. North American trees were felled, burned and the ash was exported to Great Britain as "potash fever" hit.

It gets better. In 1790, the newly-independent United States of America's first patented process was a method for making fertilizer from wood ash (U.S. patent number 1: "An improved method of making pot and pearl ash)." But cheaper sources of lime and potassium eventually killed the commercial market for wood ash.

In our case, what could be cheaper than fireplace ashes? It's so simple it stings. All you need is a fireplace (indoor or outdoor) and a mini tin trash pail with a lid.

This past winter's wood ash.

Ash is so very fine and light to the touch. Unlike sand, which tends to be heavy, ash blows away easily, so you wait for a non-windy day to apply wood ash to your garden soil.

Please don't try to use a plastic trash can or bucket for this- ash stays hot for a long time after burning out. You will find yourself with a perforated wood ash pail. Stick to metals and materials with high melting points.

Also, there are certain variables and restrictions to using wood ash as a garden fertilizer. It works well in our clay-heavy soil, but plants like blueberries and rhododendrons don't take kindly to the increased alkalinity. Weekend Gardener has all the do's and don'ts on using wood ash. 

Mustard greens, zinnias, and rosemary: Poems growing from garden soils.

 

I found this first poem on Tweetspeak, alongside a delicious recipe for collard greens. The thought of "eating and drinking poems" makes so much sense to me in the context of a carefully tended garden.

CUTTING GREENS by Lucille Clifton

curling them around

i hold their bodies in obscene embrace

thinking of everything but kinship.

collards and kale

strain against each strange other

away from my kiss making hand and

the iron bedpot

the pot is black,

the cutting board is black,

my hand,

and just for a minute

the greens roll black under the knife,

and the kitchen twists dark on its spine

and I taste in my natural appetite

the bond of live things everywhere.

An excerpt from Mona Van Duyn's poem, "A Bouquet of Zinnias", where the description of colors sticks to my head.

"In any careless combination they delight.
Pure peach-cheek beside the red of a boiled beet
by the perky scarlet of a cardinal by flamingo pink
by sunsink orange by yellow from a hundred buttercups
by bleached linen white. Any random armful
of the world, one comes to feel, would fit together.'

Thyme Will Tell has a fascinating description of rosemary's historical uses as a sacred and very special plant. Though not, technically, a poem, the passages certainly inspire and contextualize many a poem.

Rosemary doesn't just stand for memories. Recent research indicates that it may keep you from losing yours! Even in ancient times, rosemary had a reputation for stimulating mental activity. Today it is being investigated as a possible treatment for senility.

Rosemary may also stand for remembrance because it "recalls" its color and scent so well. "For you," a character in The Winter's Tale comments, "there's rosemary and rue; these keep/ Seeming and savour all the winter long. . ."

The herb was originally carried to funerals simply as a protector against infection. It soon became customary, however, for mourners to drop sprigs of it onto the coffin as a promise that they would not forget the deceased. Woven into the bride's wreath at Tudor weddings, it reminded the happy couple not to forget their vows also.

It was so closely associated with marriage, in fact, that the nurse in Romeo and Juliet could ask, "Doth not rosemary and Romeo begin both with the same letter?" This may be due to its supposed empathy with Venus, the mother of romantic love (Eros). Like the herb, she was also supposed to have sprung from the sea. Unfortunately, later in Shakespeare's play, the friar has to adjure Juliet's mourners to "Dry up your tears, and stick your rosemary/ On this fair corse."

Perhaps because of its association with sacred rites, rosemary gained a reputation as a holy plant. Considered efficacious against black magic, it docorated church festivals, especially those celebrating Christ's birth. "Down with rosemary and so," writes the poet Herrick. "Down with the baies and mistletoe,/ Down with the holly, ivie all/ Wherewith ye deck the Christmas hall."

A charming tradition holds that the Virgin Mary threw her blue cloak over a rosemary bush during the flight into Egypt, transforming its formerly white flowers. For this reason, the Spanish call it romero, the pilgrim's flower, and contend that it will never presume to surpass the adult height of Christ.

An old manuscript sent to Queen Phillippa of England by her mother claims that rosemary "mighteth the boones and causeth goode and gladeth and lighteth all men that use it. The leves layde under the heade whanne a man slepes, it doth away evell spirites and suffereth not to dreeme fowle dremes ne to be afeade. But he must be out of deedely synne for it is an holy tree. Lavender and Rosemary is as woman to man and White Roose to Reede."

This association of rosemary with masculinity seems to be directly contradicted, however, by another old belief that the herb would only thrive where the woman of the house ruled the roost. I suspect that many bushes were subjected to surreptious snippings!

Meaning "dew of the sea," rosemary has also been called polar plant, compass-weed, or incensier, the latter because it sometimes took the place of more expensive incense.

The ancients burned rosemary, often along with juniper berries, not just for the pleasant smell, but as a disinfectant. Strewn along with rue in the dock at trials, rosemary protected spectators from gaol-fever.

Rosemary Fact Sheet (Herb Society of America)

Gardening with kids of all ages: A how-to and how-not.

Our bamboo bean teepee with seeds planted just a week ago with Bill's help.

The bean sprouts curl their way into a winding adulthood- one in which they will be judged for their ability to produce food. It's hard to under-emphasize the thrill of fruiting. Hard to temper my love for the way a seed leads us to the dinner table. Hard to imagine and cultivate an ethic of beauty and wonder completely devoid of practical considerations.

So I steal a few secret minutes while weeding this morning to acknowledge my admiration for the producers of food. And I hope no one says, "Hey mom, what are you thinking about?"

Marigolds growing around the tomato plants, per Mary's aphid-free suggestion.

The Eldests' heirloom Brandywines.

We celebrated yesterday's rain for the way it darkened the soil and replenished our rain barrel. Today, the Brandywine's stalks are covered in a thick coat of white hairs- I imagined the hairs as a fur coat when last night's temperatures dropped and the wind released loose pink and scarlet rose petals, a pattern of fallen skirts.

While planting cucumbers last weekend, the Eldest warned that cucumbers should not be planted close together lest they attack one another and "keep each other small". I laughed and inquired as to his source. He couldn't quite recall if it had been an almanac or a gardening book. So we planted our cucumbers across the garden from one another. Because, as I explained to the King, "Some boys are territorial and require ridiculous accomodations to their insecure egos". 

The King looked as if he either A) understood or B) remained baffled. The thing about the King is you never can tell. His "I get it" expression is almost identical to his "I'm lost" expression.

The Eldest improvised a cucumber cage from twine and bamboo (see rear of photo).

Cucumbers do not cross-pollinate other vining plants. While you don't want crops growing into each other to create a tangle of vines, misshapen or poorly tasting cucumbers because of the pollen from nearby melons, squashes or zucchini plants. Only other cucumber varieties cross-pollinate -- all are the same botanical species. Cross-pollination does not affect cucumber fruit features or qualities, but it does yield hybridized seeds.

Over the years, I've collected quite a few resources for gardening with kids. Given my brown thumbs, it's rather incredible to see how little I've learned. But I sure did curate a tremendous number of informative and useful links.... So I went back through my gardening posts and added the most helpful, useful, and educational ones- the ones that inspire, inform, and amuse about gardening with kids. Thrive and enjoy.

THE BEST OF GARDENING WITH KIDS

Pre-school gardening club weekly activities plan (Little Green Fingers)
Preparing for our brown thumb garden (alina's adventures)
Is it garden bounty or garden booty? (alina's adventures)
Heeding the summons of spring  (alina's adventures)
The hunt for the perfect compost (alina's adventures)
Cucumbers everywhere (alina's adventures)
Planting poppies (alina's adventures)
The Eldest starts his heirloom seeds (alina's adventures)
The surprise that conquered coxsackie (alina's adventures)
Making scarecrows (alina's adventures)
Getting your garden journal and notebook ready (alina's adventures)
Flower gardening with kids (alina's adventures)
Gardening at night (alina's adventures)
The magical garden of Maria Barnes (alina's adventures)
Gardens and good germs (alina's adventures)
Getting my hands dirty (alina's adventures)

A boy and his hostas.

The Eldest has gone ga-ga for hostas. 

When we paid a weekend visit to The Plant Lady on Sunday afternoon, he managed to talk up such a hosta-appreciating storm that she gave him an $8 hosta as a gift. He promised to treasure it and guard it with his life.

I assured her that he was not kidding. Not at all. Meanwhile, the girls managed to score some free popsicles and I left with a blackberry bush. Hard to find anything to regret in such an outing. 

In hope of henbit: A discovery of devotion.

The cost of daily nature study with my children is this blooming ardor for all things green. I crave the company of wildflowers. There are times when I yearn for nothing more than a sheet of paper, a pencil, and a mute plant nearby. A particular plant with a story it wants me to tell. 

There is a carpet of stunning purple-blue wildflowers under the camellias near our front door. Part of me finds herself hoping for a henbit identification. For some unspeakable reason, I maintain a steady affection- an openness to being charmed and re-charmed- for the henbit.

The facts, themselves, don't explain my affection. As a matter of fact, henbit is a member of the mint family. There are a lot of mints that do not smell minty, some of them are edible and some of them are not. In fact, some of the mints can make you ill. Though henbit lacks the minty smell, it is an edible herb. Eat the Weeds offers a detailed scoop on henbit's lovely qualities. 

The mystery accrues, growing heavy with the weight of various Latin names and specifications. I aim for henbit, in spite of the bits that don't add up.

The more I study, the more I find satisfaction in touching the flower with all my senses- seeking a scent, lifting it, again, to the light. Sketching and re-sketching. Focusing on the stalk, adding tiny hairs along its length, bonding closer to my subject. Reminiscient of the way writing a poem breaks down the barriers between myself and what I allow myself to feel for and in the world around me, trying to find a name for this flower wraps me tighter into the wonder and magic of its existence. 

Though I can't seem to find a better id- not even on Wildflower Identification Guide- it seems highly unlikely that this would be henbit. It lacks the characteristic heart-shaped, scalloped leaves that grasp the stem and give it the nickname grasping henbit. 

I find myself focusing on the leaf shape, wondering if the oval is actually a lyre. Since lyreleaf sage grows well in this part of the country, I convince myself that the characterstic lyre-shaped leaves need not be quite as, well, lyre-like as the name suggests.

At some point I realize that more than mere science is at stake. 

Pigmentation takes me further towards distracted fascination and closer to mis-identification. I discover a trance-inducing new blog, Anybody Seen My Focus, where I learn that the leaves of lyreleaf sage reveal the amount of daily sunlight it receives. The greener leaves are usually those of the plants who receive full sun. Purple pigmentation in the edges or flesh of the leaf indicates a shade-dwelling sage. This makes sense given the partial shade in which I found our flower friend.

The King reminds me of our plans for the day, the kids throb their way through the castle, a restless rhythm demands I drop my pencil, turn away from the mystery, and face the familiar music. 

At this point, I recognize the religious pilgrim in myself- the spirit steadfastly seeking an intimacy from something outside the material world. My devotion to this simple garden weed becomes a journey, a quest for a name with all the potency of the Holy Grail. So I leave my awe, like a half-knit sock in the fair trade basket woven by women from Nigeria, for another time, another day, another moment. 

But it's hard for me. Easier to drop the sock in the basket than to quash this burning urge which developed in pursuit of a plant.  

Purple deadnettle vs. henbit factsheet (UT Extension)
Purple deadnettle (Brooklyn Botanical Garden)
Creeping charlie, or ground ivy (Edible Wild Food)
Beautiful images of henbit flower (Project Noah)
A lovely look at Lyreleaf sage (Anybody Seen My Focus)

Aside to a front-yard thistle.

Oh thistle.

Thou art a solitary, singular, front-yardish fellow,

a sight for making eyes sore.

"Only fools would pick such fallow soils",

I can't help muttering

(a way of saying without speaking).

And all those prickles for protection

just so you can saunter the lawn

draped in shameless scarlet.

 Still, I admit that no one else

wears raspberry beret so very well,

all haughty and rather huffy.

Tending to the storms' effect on our garden.

The Eldests' "Red giant" mustard greens survived the recent tornadoes and storms.

As did the newly-potted flowers carefully tended by Little B., Gnome, and Prophet.

Love letter #121: The poetic life of the egg tooth.

Three eggs discovered at a rest area in Kentucky.

The last few lines from Gail Mazur's poem, "Evening", come to mind. The lines in which the elderly woman insists that she wants the blue eggs more than the promise of the bird tucked within them.

If it weren't for the specialized aptitude of the egg tooth, the baby bird might never emerge from the egg. The baby would remain a possibility rather than a probability. 

The egg tooth fascinates me. Lodged in my neural networks, waiting to morph into the perfect metaphor, I hold it back like a pawn piece on a chess board, knowing the perfect exchange will appear to those with the patience to see it. 

Chicks with wings that don't work, those baby birds, ensconced in the protective covering of the portable womb known more commonly as "egg". Since the beak and the claws of the chick are not fully developed and cannot penetrate the egg shell at the time when the chick is ready to emerge, the egg tooth plays it brief, dazzling role. 

Found only in emerging chicks, the egg tooth's purpose is brief and to the point; it serves only to assist the baby bird in breaking through the hard shell in the process known as "pipping".

For a chick, the cost of growing within the egg-womb is a decreased ability to absorb enough oxygen through the pores of its eggshell. Compelled by its natural wisdom, the oxygen-thirsty chick uses its egg tooth to peck a hole in the air sac located at the flat end of the egg. This sac provides a few hours worth of air, during which the chick breaks through the eggshell to the outside. 

Far from being a singular miracle, the egg tooth works in concert with a special muscle on the back of the chick's neck. This pipping muscle provides chicks with the strength to force the egg tooth through the inner membrane of the eggshell.

The chick hatches, leaving its shell behind. Soon it learns to open its mouth expectantly. Finally, a few days after hatching, the egg tooth falls off, its purpose exhausted. 

C.D. Wright admires the egg tooth in "Obscurity and Selfhood", a poem published in 1949. I like the poem so much that I can't bear to parse it, to surgically remove pieces and pretend any life can be left in the dissected corpse. So here it is, in it's entirety, in honor of the marvelous egg tooth.

OBSCURITY AND SELFHOOD

by C. D. Wright

Not far
from a college.
Nevertheless.
A man
living by himself

kept his fighting cocks in plain sight. Each had its own tether and
miniature shed and dish with embossed sobriquet. Their domestication
reserved for battle before the table. Gallus gallus domesticus. A young
male, a cockerel, my husband’s patronymic before the adoption. Some hens
are disposed to poach another’s egg. Once there were teeth. Given certain
conditions they could come back. If not a full set. Even now a breathing hole
has to be pipped for the offspring to break out. This is done with an egg tooth.
Not a true tooth. Love among the chickens involves a circle dance. He is
a wonderful dancer. It goes straight to her brain. Before and after they prefer
to wash off in dust. Ashes will work if no dust. If they aren’t forced into shedding
one another’s blood, they can live until their heart gives out.
The cock
the man
could not
resist
loving.
He withdrew
from
the ring.
Yet
relinquished.
To settle
an unforgiven
debt.

My question is this:
Would you describe yourself
as a wanderer, a friend of the court, amicus curiae, falsely construed as a snitch, a blue yodeler,
   an apostate, a lost cause, a bird in the house, a biter, a common blogger, a contender, a purse
   snatcher, a false witness, a palterer, a silkie, a backyarder, channeler
for malevolent spirits, girt in the loins, figure on a shard of black pottery, moderately active, a fog
   machine, a visionary miserabilist, a chook or a cuckold, a roundhead, a little seditious, a slow-wave
   sleeper, a dead mule, a gongorist, honey on the comb, half goat half god, a white throwback, crossed
   with a mongrel, a genesis, a retired fighting
cock,
a doll
named
Memphis.

Heeding the summons of spring.

We returned from our weeklong trip to Ohio to discover spring in full bloom all over the backyard. So I dug into the wild matters at hand. Obviously, the bags have yet to be unpacked and the fridge is still rather empty...

Yet, somehow, the important things- the ones that matter most in the grand scheme of things- got done. For example, the garden soil has been tilled and a few tomatoes were transplanted. All that indoor nonsense can wait for the next spring rain.

We admired the sinews of the soil under rocks and broken clay pots. The Eldest chortled with glee at every single earthworm uncovered.

The uncanny extent to which all the kids were repulsed by the white grub led to wonder whether the word "grub" itself is somehow disgusting. Or whether it suggests (all too readily, perhaps) the possibility of a crispy grub snack. 

The Eldest consults his notes concerning the personal needs of his various seeds.

We decided to make garden paths using recycled tornado-tumbled trees turned into wood chips by the Friends of Hurricane Creek's Creekkeeper. As you can see, the fun is only half-finished.

It makes so much sense to use local wood for our gardening needs rather than pour money into Home Depot to purchase mulch and woodchips covered in non-native biota that will probably disrupt local ecologies and food webs.

Prophet washes her hands under the rain barrel spout.

The Eldest has started his seeds.

I love the way he labelled them and lined them up along the windowsill "for every drop of sunlight". Though he is sad we don't have the time or means to maintain a community garden plot this year, I know he understands our former plot will go to others whose seeds will grow in the soil we helped maintain. A beautiful circle of life.

"Look at the dark tips on my lavender sprouts," he exclaimed. I nodded and smiled, trying to calibrate my excitement at seeing his hands succeed where mine often fail.

The Brandywine heirloom tomato sprout was greeted with a high-five- it's one of our most anticipated fruits for the coming summer.

"Thank you," I told the Eldest as I stared at his "final surprise". He wondered why I was thanking him.

"It's the first beet sprout I've ever seen," I confessed. "And.... I love it." He blushed and hugged me, but not without adding, "Awww Mom, you're going to make me turn beet red."

If only he knew what powerful seeds he sows in my heart with this dedication and determination to grow his own garden- to grow his own way, to grow anyway, in spite of my unspoken longing sometimes to kiss his not-so-little feet and toes. So it goes.

Building birdhouses and questioning the rise of the nation-state.

Weekends at the Coryell Castle have a tendency to develop in unexpected ways. This past weekend, the King and the Eldest spent a Saturday building a "wren house" from tornado-fallen wood found along Hurricane Creek. It happened because of a book....

Meanwhile, the girls and I colored the "Coryell Castle" sign for the garden gate. The King cut it from found wood last year, but it languished in the garage, unpainted, until the chirps of a coming spring brought it to our attention. 

"Our house is really small- it's not like other castles," observed Prophet, as she washed a paintbrush in water she'd procured from the rain barrel. 

"That's because all the other castles are way too big," I said (a little too smug). "One day, we humans will be remembered only for our ruins- and the ruin we made of this beautiful planet."

Prophet giggled and leaned against Gnome. "Mommy is in a serious mood," she whispered.

Now, after having built the birdhouse and painted the Coryell Castle sign, the King and I sit watching the girls swing.

Gnome shows off her new ability to propel herself by pumping through the air; she throws her head back and closes her eyes for emphasis. We are charmed.

“She would have made a good Wren,” I say to the King, a reference to the original name we had planned for yonder tiny-swing-thing. He agrees.

Why did we name her M---- rather than Wren? Neither remembers.

The clouds lay like a poisonous white snakeskin over the sky. I want to peel them back and find the proper name for this strange planet-place in which we find (and lose) ourselves on a daily basis.

Prophet settles onto the swing nearest Gnome. Suddenly, Gnome's two pigtales reveal their asymmetry, she lays her head to the side, crumples her face into a cry- “No, Prophet, go away”. Prophet tries to ignore the crescendo of wails demanding that she get off the swing.

I feel myself redden.

“Gnome, you can’t cry because someone sits next to you or breathes near you!”, I snap. I'm surprised by how much this flusters me.

“Next thing you know, you’ll become one of those nationalists!" I practically spit out that last word as if it were an expletive.

"Look," I say, trying to impose some calm on my own outrage, "If you don’t like the person next to you, then it's YOUR job to get up and move. You don’t have a right to remove them or make them leave....” The Alabama Immigration legislation flashes through my mind, alongside sepia-toned photos of Ellis Island and Japanese internment camps. Gnome stops complaining; the girls swing as if their lives depended on feeling their toes touch the clouds.

The King enters my field of vision, picking up trash from the lawn, a large smile on his beardless face. “Did you just call her a nationalist?” he laughs.

“Yes,” I admit. I am that woman in the check-out line who fears that her children will find anything of value in flags, nation-states, and patriotisms. The excuses we imagine for mass killings can never be sacred to me. Fortunately, the King takes a more nuanced view of fences, gates, and the history of the nation-state. 

If it weren't for the subtle poetries of living in the deep South, this girl would be roaming the continents with her backpack, eyes peeled for caravans or other contingencies. I wonder sometimes if my rambling blood courses through the kids' veins- how and when and if they will recognize it, what symptoms will lead them to give it a name.... The mysteries of life disguise themselves in rapture.

54 ways to learn through exploring the autumn outside.

 “Autumn is a second spring when every leaf is a flower.”
Albert Camus

1. Find symmetry in nature.
(Buggy and Buddy)

2. Use pinecones to forecast the weather.
(Sorting Sprinkles)

3. Write a poem about about how it's not just a stick.
(Child's Play Music)

4. Collect and sort different parts of trees.
(Inspiration Laboratories)

5. Make a neighborhood tree guide.
(Kid World Citizen)

6. Use trigonometry to find out the height of your favorite trees.
(Science Sparks)

7. Create mini-nature weaving looms to preserve your treasures.
(Housing A Forest)

8. Observe and journal about a stump ecoystem.

9. Find a large log and make painted coasters.
(bread and buttons)

10. Observe a day in the life of a backyard birdbath.
(The Locust-Fork News Journal)

11. Make a A-frame winter shelter in your backyard.
(Mother Earth News)

12. Go shrooming.

13. Whittle together.
(Acorn Pies)

14. Sing the autumn fairy song.
(Let's Play Kids Music)

15. Try some leaf sewing on your nature walk.
(How We Learn)

16. Celebrate your local "Fall Ball".

17. Paint on seed pods.
(Danya Banya)

18. Make colorful homemade stick wind chimes.
(Happy Hooligans)

19. Find a sacred stump and tell its story.

20. Play and craft with helicopter seeds.
(Lalymom)

21. Make a twig bow and arrow.
(Acorn Pies)

22. Make rock dominoes.
(Childcareland Blog)

23. Rake some pinestraw and donate it to your school garden.

24. Build an insect hotel.
(Babble Dabble Do)

25. Blaze your own woodland trail.
(My Nearest and Dearest)

26. Whip up some fancy dinner place cards from fall leaves.
(Cool Progeny)

27. Craft a thankful mobile- try using found natural objects.
(Made By Joel)

28. Find triangles and circles in nature on a nature walk.

29. Make fern prints.
(My Nearest and Dearest)

30. Fall madly in love with a longleaf pine tree.

31. Try leaf sorting- all you need is chalk and the great outdoors.
(How Wee Learn)

32. Create a stick family- and a story to boot.
(Craftulate)

33. Watercolor leaf prints.

34. Get acquainted with all the action around another tree stump.

35. Now consider building a little loom on it.
(Babble Dabble Do)

36. Join the Knowing Nature Challenge.

37. Play with sticks.
(Picklebums)

38. Delve into some acorn math.
(Living Montessori Now)

39. Go on a sound walk.
(Mother Goose Programs)

40. Plan an extended soundwalk through a local park. 
(Hildergard Westerkemp)

41. Make a home for hedgehogs.
(Breathing Places)

42. Play with leaves and markers.
(House Wren Studios)

43. Hone the fine art of fox walking.
(Hedgehog Leatherworks)

44. Make the easiest leaf wreath ever.
(willowday)

45. Pen an Ode to Autumn.

46. Practice your Tree Poses together in the grass.

47. Make a mobile of acorn people.
(Shared Threads)

48. Use the season as a reason for extra hugs and softened voices.

49. Create autumn nature prints in sculpey or clay.
(The Artful Parent)

50. Concoct delightful, open-ended autumn trees.
(Full Circle)

51. Fashion simple autumn leaf crowns from your special tree.
(Twig and Toadstool)

52. Start an Apple Day tradition.
(Storybook Woods)

53. Play the 5 trees outdoor game.
(5 Orange Potatoes)

54. Just sit in a sunny spot and sketch what you see- the world that surrounds you.

And if the weather is too wet for outdoor explorations, consider making a cardboard tree play house with instructions and templates from Spoonful. Because we can't control the weather outside- we can only vow to honor the weather within.

Coyotes in East Tuscaloosa.

A suburban Alabama coyote, the kind that is "here to stay".

The past few weeks have put me and my spirit animal in close proximity on several occasions. If I confess my affinity for the coyote, I do so with a caveat, namely, that the mythic character of Coyote doesn't appeal to me. What I love about the coyote is what I also love about the wolf- the relentless habit of howling at the moon, speaking to the night, feeling safe in that silvered light.

Coyote the creature, a wandering loner content to dwell outside the pack, has my respect. But Coyote the myth, the trickster who tries to live outside ethics, who holds himself to no standard apart from his own pleasure, has always struck me as a rather juvenile fantasy, the kind I might have entertained back in the day when I still thought my parents were to blame for the stuff that went wrong in my life. Again, my love for coyote rubs hard against my wariness of Coyote. 

But here's why it matters. Last week, when we were wandering through the Arboretum doing nature journaling, a coyote happily crossed our path. Then he veered into the parking lot. This week, Kenny informed me the coyote population was very high this year- he's seen several in the unofficial dog park in the past few weeks.

Then, lo and behold, when the king joined us for lunch today, trumpets unfurling blue banners, his first words to me announced the presence of coyote on the street just outside our house. A dirty-blonde, reddish, sneaky coyote fellow walking near our mailbox, crossing the street with that typical bouncing step that makes canine friends look sluggish.

The kids and I missed seeing the coyote (Max worried about how the coyote and the fox that lives behind our home would co-exist), but we managed to identify his tracks. The coyote of Cherokee Hills, a legend begging to be narrated.

As usual, the events of the day determined our learning schedule. All my previous plans whistled through the window and the coyote-inspired ruckus gathered momentum. So I found a few fact sheets and tasked Max with reading them and sharing their contents with the girls. The little proffesor loves the opportunity to profess...

Coyotes in Alabama Fact Sheet (Outdoor Alabama)

The Coyote: Facts and Myths (Alabama Cooperative Extension Service)

Meanwhile, I set about doing my bit of research on Alabama coyotes. It seems that the coyote trapping season in Alabama lasts from mid-November through February. Local coyote friends eat small, furry mammals, many of which are out and about during this time, seeking food to store for the winter. 

As I mentioned before, Native American legends have long included a character known as Coyote, whose powers include an ability to blur moral boundaries by playing the trickster. Coyote (the character) cannot ever be trusted. 

One of my favorite tales is an old Caddo story, "Coyote Goes Fishing", in which an elderly Caddo man takes revenge on the ever-deceptive Coyote. It's unusual because it turns that tables on the ever-wiley Coyote.

I shared it aloud with the little people to see what they thought. Did Coyote get what he deserved? What did the Caddos teach in the telling of this tale? Did you feel sympathy for Coyote? Why or why not?

One time Coyote went out hunting along the river and saw some one walking along its banks, carrying something on his back. When he came nearer he saw that it was a man carrying a fish. Coyote came to him, and said: “How do you do, my friend? Where are you going? Where have you been? Where did you get that big snake?”

“Well,” said the man, “I have been out fishing nearly all night, and finally I caught this fish. I was so tired that I did not care to catch another.”

“What!” said Coyote, “do you call that a fish? How did you get hold of it?”

“Well,” said the man, “I will tell you how to get them. When evening comes go down along the edge of the river and break a place in the ice just big enough to put your tail in, and stay there until I come to see you again.”

That same evening Coyote went to the place and found the man waiting for him. It was getting dark. The man told Coyote to sit down by the edge of the water, while he was breaking the ice. Coyote did as the man told him. He did not know that this was a man whom he had tricked some time before and that he was trying to get revenge. The man left Coyote sitting by the bank fishing all that cold night. Toward the middle of the night the water began to freeze on Coyote’s tail, and toward morning the ice got thicker and thicker, and when morning came Coyote tried to get up from his seat, for he was very tired, but he could not. There he was, trying in every way to get free, but he could not move.

When the man came he said to Coyote: “How are you getting along? Are you catching any fish?” Coyote replied: “I think I have caught two or three of them, but can you help me to get them out on dry land?”

“Yes,” said the man, “of course I will, although I want to talk to you before we get the fish out of the water. You remember that a long time ago you were one of my best friends, but finally you tricked me, and now I am getting even with you. You will have to die, for I am going to kill you.”

“My friend,” said Coyote, “I think you are mistaken. I do not think I am the man who played the mean trick on you. You know very well that I never betray my friends while I am able to see. If you will let me go this time I will go and bring the man you are looking for, and I will come back to-morrow evening and assure you that I am your friend.”

“But,” said the man, “I do not see how you are going to get loose to go, do you? I will look for the other man myself, and I will do to him just as I am going to do to you.”

The man went back to his lodge to get his bow and arrows. When he returned to Coyote he took one of the arrows out and showed it to him and said, “You see this?” He began to sing the song that warriors sing just before they kill their enemies. When he had finished the song he shot and killed Coyote.

Then we read "How Coyote Stole Fire", an alternate telling in the line of Coyote legends. It's another favorite- a story that should be told by a blazing bonfire with shadows dancing across the faces and nary a star in the night sky. A story in which reveals nuances in Coyote's character.

While the girls and I discussed the two stories, Max compared them in his journal, focusing on what traits of Coyote each story revealed. If the weather agrees, build a fire outside tonight and share this story with your family. Add a few marshmallows for the squirmiest little ones... I garner it will spark something memorable.

Raking pinestraw.

The king manages the raking scene outside the castle. 

It happened as if by accident.... After Suebee and Pops left, and Carla and Isla hit the road, we found ourselves in the front yard, raking...

Bella was the most eager young raker of the bunch.

She managed to make a pile of her own.

Max, the marvelous leaf blower, blew us away with his earnest efforts.

The king said said it would have been impossible without Max's hard work. I sheepishly agreed. As everyone worked, a man in a red truck drove by seeking pinestraw. We pointed towards the budding piles and he said he would back to collect them. Which he did.

The king and Max used the tarp to haul the huge stacks of pinestraw across the yard. When the tarp was not in use, of course, the girls discovered alternate uses. For example, the tarp became the silver hideaway castle....

And all three ladies agreed to be co-princesses of their silver castle. But princesses in these parts do more tree climbing, mud-pie baking, and gallivanting than tiara-wearing. 

Bella running in triple motion- she kept asking me about this photo and how her head managed to be "over there". Sometimes I wish I had been more serious about physics.

And so the fall day warmed enough to bring a few mosquitos as dusk... Alabama autumns, always beautiful and unpredictable, like the days on our calendar when I agree to accept I cannot control ever minute or millisecond.

Make your own lemon verbena water.

Flashback: In one of her efforts to treat to me to lady-like luxury, my mom purchased a spa massage for me. I was the only woman in the building wearing flip-flops and lacking a manicure. Despite my discomfort, I discovered something delicious in the waiting lounge- a pitcher of ice water with garden herbs floating inside. This information inspired our experiment today. 

On a hot Alabama summer day, after lamenting the vitality of garden weeds, we decided to add some freshly-picked lemon verbena to a pitcher of iced water. Sure enough, the taste is amazing and refreshing. Just a reminder to get creative and step harvest some herbs to add to ice water- you'll be surprised at the delicious result.

A tiny egg in the garden and a tiny poem to match it.

We found the egg right near the recently-tilled soil in our backyard. Not even Max knew what bird might be missing this lovely little egg. I jotted down a little poem to entice the girls into talking about eggs, since they prefer to speak in rhymes and songs these days.

THE SECRET OF EGGS

The tiny egg hides a big secret-
a special place, a possible egret.
Inside the shell, safe and warm,
a life begins to grow and form
little cells becoming bones and beak,
feathers, heart, and voice to squeak.
Our little egg provides a space to grow
for the chicken, duckling, wren, and crow.
And every little egg is a place to begin
for creatures with feathers and their kin. 

Is it garden bounty or garden booty?

Basil and lettuce harvest.

The day begins with dirt. My fingernails converse with the soil of the two different gardens these days- the community garden down the street as well as our backyard castle garden. After spending an hour weeding, newspapering, and covering the community garden plot, I harvested the richly-scented purple basil and some lettuce leaves.

Since we have our usual lunch guest coming today, I think it will be easy to make a salad fit for the King.

We planted later than usual this spring, which means that the joy of watching seeds sprout, blossom, and bloom is at its peak right now. So many little faces and hands emerging from the ground- so much action in and under the ground....

The All-Seeing Max planted his onions very early in the spring and he is quite proud of their progress- even though the only onions he agrees to eat must be "caramelized".

Look at this pretty purple onion!

Milla spent the morning explaining how the squash flower "hides when Daddy comes home because she don't the 'skitos". Apart from being captivated by the plants, Milla seems to have a good handle on the concept of causation- though the specifics sound sketchy sometimes. Why didn't she assume that the squash flower hides from Daddy since these events are coterminous?

Good morning to you as well, lovely Lemon verbena. Your scent is charming us back into the warm, wet soil for another sniff. The epistemology of life lived between weeds and seeds suits me quite well these days.

Primroses.

Max has determined that our garden friend is none other than the showy evening primrose, also known as Oenothera speciosa. Of course, we had a little help from Carol, who explained that primroses are not poppies (we were hot on the poppy trail). Once this was established, the rest came easily.

Oenothera speciosa Primrose Handout (PDF)

A beautiful prim little plant, no? Carol said she used to make leis from it when she was a child- she strung them together using the hollow hole in the center. I can only imagine how pretty it must have looked.

Be part of Budburst's Summer Solstice Event!

Something fun to plan for the summer solstice on June 21st this year. To participate in Budburst's Summer Solstice Event, all you need is an internet connection and a desire to learn more about the plants around you. Of course, the super-eager can also make use of the phone app. So here's what you do:

First, go online and register for free.

Then choose a plant to monitor. Our opinion is that native plants are the most rewarding.

Determine your plant's location using latitute and longitude. You'll need this to add to the report forms.

Next, download and print the appropriate plant report form. Report forms exist for wildflowers, evergreens, deciduous trees and shrubs, grasses, and conifers.

Finally, submit your observations to share with other participants and plant lovers across the world.

Smitten with flower press.

I found a charming little flower press on sale at Barnes and Noble and decided it was absolutely necessary for our learning this summer. It's unusual for me to be enchanted or inspired by a brand, but if it happens, it tends to be French brand. In this case, Moulin Roty.

Even the cardboard box is too lovely to toss....

The history of Moulin Roty began in 1972 when a group of 20 odd friends were searching for a common project that would provide both income and way of life. In the small French village of Moulin Roty, the friends decided to purchase an old mill that has fallen into ruins. They renovated the mill bit by bit so that their families could move in and live there together as a commune. The adventure began with screen printing and craft items (lamps, jewellery, decorative items . . . ) and ended with a worldwide commune brand. 

In 1980, Moulin Roty opened its doors as an official Cooperative (SCOP) in order to "ensure the development and the durability of the company". This status helps board members conserve the founding values of the brand : solidarity, sharing and respect. The French cooperative movement offers much to emulate and inspire its American counterpart.

Then, in 1988, a fire destroyed the entire workshop at the old mill.  The designs, stock, files and machines were completely lost. Moulin Roty moved to Nort sur Erdre, 15 kilometres away and decided to begin from scratch. This new start also gave added importance to the design and sales aspects of the company. The latter kept its status as a cooperative but became a public limited company (SA) in 1991.

In 1996, a Hungarian-Romanian gentleman by the name of Arpad Kovacs got involved in the creative aspect of Moulin Roty. He designs the large majority of their wooden games and toys thanks to the company he founded in his native village in Romania. The company offers work to 150 families and possesses unique know-how that has long been forgotten in France, especially with regards to wood and wicker.

In 2000, the first subsidiary in Great Britain is created and a strong web presence for Moulin Roty emerges.

And just to think that the Moulin Roty Botanist Set is 72 dollars worth of beautiful... We'll just have to use that cardboard box to make our own... In the meantime, even the coloring pages delight us.

Right-click to open full-size printable.

Alabama Herbs: A video introduction to pokeweed.

Since Phyllis Light is the mentor of my two favorite herbalists, I was excited to find a video in which Phyllis goes on a little herb walk in her hometown of Arab, Alabama. A fascinating introduction to the ever-common pokeweed that lives so happily in the South.

Exploring azaleas in our yard.

Last week, we took advantage of the last bright breath of the azaleas to learn more about the kinds that grow in our yard.

It all started when the girls picked a few large bouquets of azaleas and offered them to us as a gift. So we put each kind a different glass bottle with a little bit of water. Obviously, the azaleas were looked different from one another, so Max decided to try and identify them.

His Guide to North American Wildflowers wasn't very helpful since most of the plants were cultivated, probably purchased from a local nursery by those who owned the castle before us. So we turned to the native azalea cheatsheat in the hopes of finding more.

And then we did the unthinkable- we put off identifying our azalea friends in the interest of learning more about their anatomy and reproduction. Max wanted to see if our azaleas had all their "flower parts" so he could determine if they were perfect or imperfect flowers.

Lest you forget, dissecting flowers is the easiest way to really learn flower parts and distinguish between perfect and imperfect flowers. We also tried to determine the specific "flower shape" of our three azaleas.

Max reminded me that we could only really see the ovules, as "the ovaries are the eggs and they are teeny tiny before they become fruits".

Max got interested in the petal shapes and spent quite a bit of time trying to decide which petal margins were ruffled and which were wavy. I think I know why they never taught us this stuff in school..... it's not as easy as it appears to classify azaleas. 

Azaleas Handout (PDF)

Using the azalea handout above, Max noted the differences in our azalea friends. We took notes and hope to head over to the Arboretum for some help later this week. 

More azalea handouts and PDF printables:

Guide to Azaleas (Alabama Cooperative Extension)
Azalea Origami How-To
Azalea Bonsai (New Englad Bonsai Gardens) 
Azalea Culture for Georgia Gardens (Your Southern Gardern) 
Azalea Lace Bug Handout (OSU) 
Evergreen Azalea Handout (Virginia Tech) 
Azalea Leaf and Flower Gall Handout (University of Arkansas) 
Indian Azalea Handout 
Azalea Toxicity in Goats (Small Ruminant Ramblings) 
Azalea and Rhododendron Diseases (Clemson) 

Making candied violets with the kids.

Continuing our study of violets, we made candied violets earlier this week. You will need:

two eggs
a whisk and a bowl
wax paper
raw turbinado sugar
a mortar and pestle
20 or so freshly harvested violet flowers

First, we cracked open two eggs and removed the yolk from the egg white. (I set aside the yolk to use for a feta cheese omelette later.) We used the multi-colored fresh eggs from Laurie, and the kids noticed the creamy golden-ness of the yolk.

Then Max whisked the egg white until it bubbled on top. The bowl was set aside so we could dip the violets into the egg white later. I explained that the egg white would act as a "sugar glue".

Meanwhile, the girls talked to the violets and thanked them for being present in our kitchen and in our hands. I think they learned this from all the Native American materials we've been reading recently, particularly the tradition of thanking the animals after a hunt.

Then Max poured two tablespoons of turbinado sugar into the pestle and began the strenous process of grinding it into a finer powder. If you use regular sugar, make sure it is fine enough to stick since the weight of large sugar crystals is not happily carried by our little violet friends.

Then Micah, Milla, and Max took turns holding the violets by their stems and dipping them first in the egg white and then in the sugar carefully. Once they had dipped and sugared their violets, they placed them on the wax paper and we put them in the oven on the lowest bake setting for 30 minutes.

The taste was light, fragrant, and somewhat like a serenade to spring. Even Patrick and Kevin snacked on violets.

Weaving together botany and ecology.

Botany has been my favorite subject this learning season, and our study of herbs only adds to the daily marvels. However, kids seeking plants in fields contributed to some pillaging of local species, so I was grateful to discover a few "golden rules" (as well as a general primer for learning about herbs with little people) at Herbal Roots Zine. Here are the practices that we reviewed today (and will review again tomorrow):

Be a good land steward. Always pick up any debris you find on hiking trails, in the woods, etc. Teach them respect and awe for the beauty of nature and set a goal to always return a setting to its pristine state. When harvesting, don’t leave a mess of plants behind. Be discreet.

Make a positive ID every time. Always double check your plants to make sure you are 100% sure of what you are harvesting. If unsure, leave it! Don’t start tasting plants and berries if you don’t know what they are.

Leave more than you take. When harvesting plants from the wild, only take what you need or a quarter of the stand, less if it is struggling or an endangered plant. Before harvesting, make sure there are other stands of the plant in the area. Never harvest from a weak looking stand.

Do not harvest endangered species. Learn to cultivate these plants in your local wild areas to help bring them back. Grow a patch in your own yard if possible for harvesting purposes. United Plant Savers offers a list of endangered species on their website.

Harvest at the right time. Don’t harvest plants out of season. Dig roots in spring or fall, harvest leaves before the flowers bloom, harvest flowers as they open, etc. Teach your child(ren) the correct harvest times for each plant you are harvesting to avoid unnecessary waste. Plants harvested out of their peak harvest time will be less effective and possibly unusable depending on the plant.

Get permission. When harvesting on property that is not yours, make sure you have permission to harvest. Double check with state laws regarding wild crafting on public lands as well. Some conservation areas allow harvesting, others do not. Each area often has its own rules about harvesting as well.

Avoid roadside harvesting. Plants growing near roadways are often contaminated with pollution from vehicles. Make sure you’re off the beaten path for healthier harvesting.

Avoid treated lawns. Teach your child(ren) the importance of avoiding yards that are sprayed with pesticides, herbicides and other chemical sprays. Also have them be on the look out for run off from such lawns that go into wild areas. Some subdivisions have retainment ponds where the run off drains to after a rain. These areas are often teaming with lots of wild plants that are prime choices for harvesting. If they are in the path of the run off, do not harvest them.

I might add that one of the most effective ways (in our experience) to demonstrate the importance of herbs to the little folks is by incorporating an ecological element into the hands-on study of each plant. Rather than talking only about the features and characteristics of the herbs, we also discuss their natural relationships as a part of a unique local ecosystem or niche.

For example, who relies on this plant for food? What important roles does it play in the system as a whole? What threatens its existence? What invasive plants also thrive in the area? How much (or how little) is this a problem in this particular field location? How might this plant be affected by climate change or natural disaster? 

MORE FREE RESOURCES ON PLANT AND HERB CONSERVATION
Project Budburst (citizen science from the NSF)
 Invasive Plants Brochure (Center for Plant Conservation)
Downspout Bog Gardens (Native Plant Society of North America)
Gardener's Tip Sheet (Center for Plant Conservation) 
Green Medicine (NPS)
Easy-to-Grow Native Grasses 1 and 2 (North American Native Plant Society) 
Invasive Plants Recipes (National Audubon Society) 

INVASIVE PLANT FACT SHEETS
Musk Thistle Fact Sheet 
Fig Buttercup Fact Sheet 
Purple Loosestrife Fact Sheet 
Black Locust Fact Sheet  
Kudzu Fact Sheet 
Porcelainberry Fact Sheet  
Princess Tree Fact Sheet  

COLORING PAGES
Dark woods violet 
Skunk cabbage 
Showy milkweed 
Woodland beardtongue   
Purple loosestrife 
Scotch thistle 
White trillium 
Wild strawberry  
Watercress 
Wild ginger 
Florida Wildflowers Coloring Book 
Utah Native Plants To Color 

Learning about violets.

A day last week began with a scheduling error on my part- the kind that involves an extra three hours to kill in a town sixty miles from home. Finally, we ended up in the right place at the right time, the Herbal Kids Club, an awesome learning experience well-worth the 120 mile trip.

Rachel began by getting everyone together and bringing Violet to life. Almost everyone tasted the violet tincture.

Micah thought the violet tincture tasted like "shampoo".

Milla didn't really express her impression of the violet tincture.

Off we went, seeking violets- I thought I heard Max humming the Violet song on his way.

There were violets everywhere, officially annoucing the arrival of spring. I notice some similar flowers of much smaller size around the violets, but Stone quickly assured me that "they are not baby violets because they don't have heart-shaped leaves." He was right.

Then we all sat down to sketch violets and violet leaves. Micah, ever the perfectionist, was not satisfied with any drawings that did not match the flowers and leaves she had seen. I tried to remind her that it was best to try and  "color an impression for yourself" rather than draw to please others.

Rachel showed us how to make violet tea. She added all the violet leaves and flowers picked by the kids to a glass jar and then poured in boiling water. Then she covered the jar and let is steep for about half-an-hour (though I'm sure steeping it longer would increase the flavor for flavor-junkies). When we tasted the tea, it was light and fragrant, very refreshing. The color was a delicate cornflower yellow.

Not everyone, however, took part in the tea-making discussion. Four little people chose to spend some time with Clover, the gorgeous free-roaming hen.

I have half the mind to buy a hen for Anna, but I wonder how Amy might "repay" me for such a generous favor....

Before we left, we learned that our hens might have fared better if they had not been cooped up in their cage. We also made violet honey and enjoyed the background hum of children at play on a perfect spring day.

Diagnosis Dogwood: The process for helping out a friend.

Our dogwood friends have started blooming, and a few on the backyard tree still had their eyes closed this morning- a great opportunity to really savor each step of their development. Unfortunately, I am focusing on this tree today because she is suffering and needs a diagnosis.

You can see the leaves emerging like tiny fists of green from the branches below. The leaves look green and healthy, though this might have more to do with their novelty than their general well-being.

Dogwood berries turn red in September as a signal to the birds that the seeds are ripe and ready to be eaten by birds (squirrels eat them too, but they chew up the seeds in the berries). The birds swallow the berries, digest the "meat" off the seeds, and then the softened seeds pass through the bird's digestive system. Many of the white woodland dogwoods seen blooming in the spring were planted by birds!

DIAGNOSIS DOGWOOD

To diagnose our dogwood, Max and I are flipping through the field guides and looking online. For novices like us, dogwood diagnosing works by process of elimination. For example, we don't suspect Dogwood Anthracnose because the leaves are not affected- only the flowers or bracts. Yet this anthracnose is caused by a fungus, which would make it a recurring problem, and Max says he remembers the flowers looked this way last year as well.

So we did some more research on the fungus which causes anthracnose, and we found something that didn't suit our fancy. It looks like our friend is suffering from spot anthracnose. According to plant pathologists at North Carolina State University:

Spot anthracnose, caused by Elsinoe corni, affects the flower bracts (petals), leaves and young shoots. The most conspicuous symptoms are small (1/25 to 1/16 inch in diameter), circular to elongate reddish-purple spots on the bracts in early spring. The spots may become numerous and merge, losing the distinctive characteristics of individual spots. Severely infected bracts may be stunted and disfigured and fall prematurely.

Spots on leaves are very small and dark purple in color, but the centers may turn pale yellow-gray and drop out. Heavily infected leaves are smaller than normal, distorted and often killed. Infected young shoots and berries develop elongated, scabby lesions with a purplish margin. The causal fungus produces spores on the lesions, and overwinters on infected twigs and fruit.

And so we have our answer. Now time for the solution. This part led Max to a little despair, since now we must examine the extent to which our tree has been affected and determine whether it can be saved. Not exactly what I had hoped when I lured the munchkins to the dogwood blooms this morning.....

On the other hand, if worse comes to worse, we can harvest some seeds from the dogwoods in the front yard and try to plant some healthy dogwoods in the backyard. The cycle of life is not always easy to explore with kids when it involves the possible dying of a favorite climbing-hammocking-fort tree.

MORE DOGWOOD EXPLORATIONS:

Best Ever Flowering Dogwood Coloring Page (PDF from MEEEA)
Selection and Care of Dogwoods (PDF from ACES)
Cornus florida Fact Sheet (PDF from US Forest Service)
Flowering dogwood (University of Alabama Arboretum) 
How to harvest dogwood tree seeds (Ehow) 

Micah, the mud pie chef.

Early last week, our plans were changed. It was a mudpie-making day. The kind of day when nothing on the list gets done because the sunshine beckons, nay, begs, for our attention. So Micah and Milla backed mud pies. 

Max offered multiple instructions on how to get the pies to bake just right, but I think Micah has a knack for these things and doesn't need much instruction.

This is the mud truck which holds the mud as it is mixed and prepared for baking. I'm so glad someone in this castle can bake....

If you need a literary reason for baking mud pies, here are a few of our personal favorites:

And don't forget to take the time to smell the flowers, or, rather:

Make a batch of mud paint + Get serious about mud procedure play + Listen to our "Mudheads" podcast + Alternate use for mud puddle #74

Planting poppies.

Today we are planting our poppy seeds from Bunicu and Pam- special spring blooms to "make the birds singing" (in Milla's words).  Unfortunately, my hands stayed too full for photos, but each munchkin had their own poppy seeds and pots for the planting.

As we poured, dug, and planted, we also talked about the many opportunities for learning that exist in our backyards. Max got his kicks by creating a calendar to add to his gardening notebook. And then we discussed the idea of "plant-catching" and how we might incorporate it into our gardening routines and plans for the this year.

Plantcatching Flyer (PDF) to download and share with others. 
And visit the website for info about catchings near you. 

Fun with flowers- and flower words.

Continuing our study of botany, flowers are all the rage today. In the yard and on our paper. Here's your free printable PDF version... which I would prefer if you used at home or with kids but not for profit of any sort. Consider me your nonprofit friend.

Flower Words (PDF)

Garden notebook cover.

I love Alice Cantrell's garden journal covers, but we needed a full-size page for our garden notebooks (which we put in binders). So I quickly drafted a very mediocre version of Alice's gorgeous creation.

Because sharing is a form of caring, right? By the way, tthe cover page looks great printed out on a recycled brown grocery bag which you can then bind with twine and a three-hole punch.

Garden Notebook Cover (PDF)

Mysterious moths also pollinate flowers.

Moths never get the attention they deserve for their mysterious ways. So we are learning about moths as pollinators and poetic muses today. For information on how to paint a chickweed moth as lovely as the one above, skip down to the links at the end of this post. 

Moths As Pollinators (PDF)

More moths to chase:

Like A Moth to a Flower Handout (Pollinator)
"the lesson of the moth", a poem by Don Marquis
The Lesson of the Moth Worksheet (Beacon Learning Center)
Differences between a butterfly and a moth (Ehow) 
Phaelaenophily, moth pollination (Wikipedia) 
Let's Paint the Chickweed Moth tutorial (Let's Paint Nature) 

Making tassel necklaces.

Thanks to a little inspiration from Armommy, we made tassel necklaces this morning.

Fabric scraps and twine, a chance to practiee measurement skills.

And then resumed the ceaseless pinestraw-raking, which had a happy ending when the Druid City Garden Project came by with a truck and picked up the piles of pinestraw to use as mulch for their school gardens.

Preparing for our brown-thumb garden.

During the spring and summer, outdoor nature study occupies a fair bit of our science learning. Today, with the first sun-sprinkled day in a few weeks, everyone set about raking the yard and making huge piles of pinestraw of which we hope somehow to be rid. We got a few veggie seeds from Five Points Hardware and hope to plant them sometime this week, putting us on the tail end of February plantings.

Technically, in Alabama, you can plant the following vegetables this month: mustard greens, peas, potatoes, spinach, swiss chard, and turnips. We are in soil hardiness zone 7b 5-10.

Tools to prepare for spring and summer gardens with kids:

Alabama Gardener's Calendar (ACES)
Planting Guide for Home Gardening in Alabama (ACES) 
Alabama Gardener Magazine 
Alabama Hardiness Zones Map (Garden Time Online) 
Vines for Alabama Landscapes (ACES) 
Smart Gardener (Sprouting Off) 
DIY paper bag garden journal (Never Enough Time) 
Home Sustainability Calendar (ACES) 
Crop Rotation: Vital in vegetable garden (Backyard Wisdom) 
Now is the time to soil test (Backyard Wisdom) 
Use a garden notebook (Mother Earth News) 
My Garden Notebook printable cover for kids (Alice Cantrell) 
Free garden journal download (ARBICO Organics)
Garden plan worksheet (Frugal Living) 
Insect Investigator for Kids (ISUE) 
Creating an Entymology Project (ISUE) 
Widlflowers in Alabama Landscapes (ACES) 
Watching Widlflowers at DeSoto State Park (Outdoor Alabama) 
Widlflower Trail Guide for Huntsville and North Alabama 
Alabama's 10 Most Invasive Weeds (Alabama Plant Council) 

Henbit is here.

Carol immediately identified it as Henbit (Lamium amplexicaule) which she described as "one of the first flowers of spring", a member of the mint family. It was picked in the middle of a sunny dandelion patch. Henbit is a winter annual with square stems and pink-purple flowers that reach 16 inches in height.

Henbit is a winter annual weed that has oppositely arranged leaves with lobed margins. Stems are hairy and square; they typically grow in an upright fashion but can grow prostrate and occasionally root at nodes. Flowers occur in the axils of upper leaves. They are pale purple, long (up to 3/8 inch), and trumpet-shaped. Henbit is found in moist soils and can be especially troublesome in turf during early spring.

"It looks like lady in a long purple dress singing with all her heart," said wise little Micah.

The nectar and pollen of the early blooming flowers attract long-tongued bees primarily, including honeybees and bumblebees. The foliage is eaten by voles and box turtles, while rabbits rarely bother it. In addition, the common name comes from its seeds, which are said to be savory to hens and chickens (hence "hen bit").

According to the Virginia Tech Weed ID Guide, this plant is often confused with  purple or red deadnettle (Lamium purpureum). The distingusining feature if that purple deadnettle has upper leaves that are triangular, occur on petioles, and are distinctly red or purple tined, unlike the upper leaves of henbit. These subtle differences were interesting enough to offer Max an opportunity for comparing and contrasting in today's nature journal entry.

Compare and Contrast Lamium (PDF)

Johnny Appleseed and apple learning.

The Apple Roll Game (PDF)

Yesterday, we read The Story of Johnny Appleseed by Aliki with its lovely illustrations. Unfortunately, I got a little uncomfortable with the mythic component of the story of John Chapman's life, especially since John's relationship with organized Christianity was anything but comfortable given the radical nature of his teachings. (Straight Dope offers a more truthful account of John's life and character for those interested in such things.)

Then we read the Legend of the Apple Star from Freeflowing Ways, an inspiring blog which combines nature narratives with Waldorfian wonder. The lasses loved watching me cut an apple to reveal the little seed star within. 

"Inside every apple sleep five seed babies in their star beds, waiting for Mother Earth to give them life."

We discussed and colored the parts of an animal, and Micah explained which parts we must remove (i.e. skin, core, seeds, leaves, and stem) to make applesauce. Finally, Max helped the girls play a number-recognition game- The Apple Roll Game- which I saw somewhere online and could not quite afford to purchase (hence the cheap, Alina-generated model above).

Usually, Max will help "teach" at least one activity or book a day to the girls- I think it helps increase his confidence and ability to communicate. My thoughts on this have been greatly inspired by Grandma Vicki and the awesome Reggio Emilia.