We recently watched the absolutely beautiful and moving film, Captains Courageous, made in 1937 (Spencer Tracy got an Oscar). That was one spoiled boy in that movie! Good hard work is what turned him around, and the satisfaction of a job well done. This, too, is something that I want to teach my children. Not only will they experience awe and wonder at the beautiful world, but grow in maturity as well. We can learn great lessons from the soil.
Well, the gardens are not always wonder and awe for my children, because sometimes I have to conscript them to help me! This past week, when I started digging up the front gardens, I called the girls out to help me. Though none was thrilled with the idea, they all came out, but with differing levels of acceptance. "How long do we have to stay out here? What do you want me to do? Can I take a break? I have to get ready to go out soon! Look, now it’s going to take me so much longer because I’ll have to do my nails over! I don’t even know if I can get the dirt out from under them!" Most of the complaints came from the same indentured servant, after which I announced, "The more you complain, the longer you stay out here!" And I did it, too. The youngest wasn’t really able to do much, but she tried. (Why is it that the most willing are usually the ones least able to do much?) She got an early break. The next two were silent after my announcement and diligently completed some important jobs. They were dismissed after about an hour. The fourth stayed for a good hour longer, until she had gotten the point. I mean what I say. Help around the house. They have inside chores, but they need to help outside sometimes, too. All play and no work makes a spoiled child, and if my children act spoiled or whiney, they get more work. (If they complain about dinner, they get more dinner! They’ve learned not to complain…)
We recently watched the absolutely beautiful and moving film, Captains Courageous, made in 1937 (Spencer Tracy got an Oscar). That was one spoiled boy in that movie! Good hard work is what turned him around, and the satisfaction of a job well done. This, too, is something that I want to teach my children. Not only will they experience awe and wonder at the beautiful world, but grow in maturity as well. We can learn great lessons from the soil.
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So today we went to The Wetlands Institute in New Jersey! We went out on a boat, dropped a troll net to catch some fish to study, collected some plankton, and saw wild bottlenose dolphins leaping in the bay! But since it was a long ride, my friend invited us to her parents’ shore house the night before, to avoid a frenzied rush in the morning. So, this morning before we left I was sitting on the deck by the bay, and Christina came up with Purslane. "Look, Mom! It even grows here!" Well, why not? If it grows on the Spanish Steps in Rome, why not in a neglected, forgotten flower pot on the Jersey shore? She promptly popped it into her mouth. A few minutes later, my friend’s young son came up to me with a weed he had yanked out of the stones, root and all. "What’s this?" "Oh! Lamb’s Quarters! It’s so yummy!" I popped a leaf in my mouth. "Taste it. It really has no taste. Very plain." I might as well have asked him to eat a cockroach. Eyes wide, with the uncomfortable smile one might give to a person one suspects might be a little crazy, he said politely, "Uh, n-no thanks." Must be polite with crazy people. You never know what they’ll do. "Oh, c’mon! Be a man!" I joked to this petite seven-year old. "No," as he backed away, "I’m not a leaf-eating man." Christina popped one in her mouth, too, then promptly went over to the purslane to show him that. "Try some," she said, as she took a big chomp and offered him the rest. He started giving her that crazy-lady look, too. "I’m not the leaf-eating type," and he quickly disappeared! So funny! I just got such a kick out of his assumption that I would be able to identify weeds, but his horror when Christina and I ate them! And I was so pleased that my almost-11-year-old is already proving to be a successful forager. Yet while we admired the flora of the seashore, we did not neglect the fauna! Here are some little shrimps Christina netted in the bay. She was sorry to let them go again, because "they’re soooo cuuuuute!" Ahem. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder! Today we played hunter-gatherer. I was experimenting with harvesting amaranth seed, and called Anna-Grace and Christina to join me. I grabbed a bag of amaranth that I had picked last week and let dry, but discovered that once dry, it felt like prickers! OK. Lesson number 1: we don’t harvest from dried amaranth! So off we marched to the garden to get fresh stuff. Picking off a branch of seeds, I showed the girls how to whack it against the bowl or rub it gently to release the tiny black seeds, and the chaff as well. Anna-Grace soon tired and wandered off, but Christina seemed quite interested. I showed her how to drop it from one hand into the other, allowing the breeze to carry the chaff away and leave the seed behind. Proud of my efforts, I looked up to see Christina extending a hand of almost perfectly cleaned seed! "Wow! You’re good at it!" I said admiringly. Then I discovered she had a better method – she blew on it! It works great, especially if you cup your hand. That way even if the seeds move a little, they won’t blow out, but the chaff will. Another method is to use very fine mesh to sift. That would be much more efficient, and I may invest in some in the future, if I really intend to collect for serious use. But this was slow and natural, and gave us some time to talk about the process. "This is fun," Christina said. After about 20 minutes, we had little more than a tablespoon of seed. "Is that all??" Christina complained. "I want to do more! PLEASE??" Well! Who would have thought! "There’s more in the back," I offered. "C’mon! Let’s go! I want to do it until the whole bottom of the bowl is covered." Back we marched to several other, larger plants, and began again, experimenting on the best ways to release the seeds and the best ways to blow them. "Is this the way they did it in the old days?" Christina asked. I told her that usually they would collect a large harvest, like wheat, and stand in the middle of a big pile on the floor with large, nearly flat bowls. They’d scoop it up into the air, and the breeze would blow away the chaff and the wheat would fall back down. They would do it over and over, until all the chaff blew away. "You could imagine that in the old days, when people had all day to collect and prepare food, they would have the time and inclination to do this. But, we don’t have that kind of time. Still, it’s fun to learn." "I wish I could make it all black," she said, after she tried for the third time to get the last of the chaff out of the finished seed. "That’s all right, a little chaff is good for us." "But you want it to look good on your website, so you can impress people." Ha! Funny. "Well, it gives me an opportunity to discuss the importance of fiber in the diet." "Oh. OK," and she let the finished seed alone and went back to winnowing more. (Chaff is fiber, which we cannot digest. Fiber works almost like a broom to brush off all the junk that is stuck to our intestines. Make sure you have plenty of fiber in your diet!) I went in for a few minutes, and when I returned I found we had picked up a couple more helpers! Teresa, who puts sparkles on her cheekbones and keeps her nails painted (sparkly blue, currently) is not much for gardening, but joined in the fun for a bit. Anna-Grace covered the seeds with her Uncle Sam hat, lest the winnowing blow chaff into it. But Christina was developing a serious, effective method. Suddenly, upon referring to the plant as Wild Amaranth, I caused a connection in her head. "Wait! Is this a WEED?" At first I wasn’t sure if that was good or bad. "We’re eating weeds? I use this to make my brown soup!" (some kind of mud concoction) She actually seemed pleased to suddenly realize that, in her play, she had chosen edible weeds for her pretend food. As the seeds accumulated, the girls marveled at how soft and smooth they were. Amaranth seeds are tiny, perfectly round, shiny soft spheres, and the girls just kept pressing their fingers into the small pile and rubbing them. "So soft!" they exclaimed, as if they had discovered a hidden treasure. Indeed they had. Finally they tired, and we returned to the house. Passing the bag of dried, prickly amaranth, I couldn’t resist checking the bottom of the bag for seed. Sure enough, there were tons of bits at the bottom. We winnowed that, too, albeit with quite a few pricks; our soft, civilized hands couldn’t handle the stuff. I ran inside to find what kind of strainer I might have, and found a little lid used for sprouting. It quickly "separated the seed from the chaff," to paraphrase the Bible. The seed slipped right through the holes, leaving most of the chaff behind. Doing it a couple times supplied a very quick supply of clean seeds. Note to self, definitely get the right size mesh strainer for future harvesting. After all that work, we only collected a few tablespoons of amaranth seed, but it was worth it. We had collected something even more valuable: a treasure of discovery, learning, memories, and wonder at the world. Well! This is really turning out to be the year of the birds! We had the pleasure of watching a bird family grow, and saving a drowning bird, but this time I was prepared for tragedy. Instead, we all learned of the resilience of these little creatures! A few weeks ago I was visited by a reporter, who subsequently wrote a wonderful article in our local newspapers. (I am hoping to attach some kind of link eventually, or upload a portion of the article). The focus was on edible weeds and flowers, and I was standing near our Rose of Sharon, pointing out a patch of Lady’s Thumb, when I noticed a repeated, sharp, distressed cheap from the ground. Looking quickly but not seeing anything, I said to my daughter, "Christina, I think there is a baby bird on the ground." I did not want to interrupt the interview, so I continued talking, forgetting about the bird. Nature takes its course. But a few minutes later, Christina approached us holding out a towel-lined shoebox. "Look, Mom, it IS a baby bird!" She was so excited. "I’m going to feed it and make it a pet," and off she went. Well, I would not have suggested she touch the bird. It was so very young. But I was busy with the reporter and left her to her own devices. By the time the interview ended, Christina had put in the box a little lid with water in it, and was feeding the baby some sunflower seeds. Apparently she had gotten a couple into him, but he had spit them back up, so I suggested something squishy and wriggling; worms are hard to find in such dry conditions as we had this summer, but those fuzzy yellow bean beetle larvae all over our string bean leaves are easy prey! Fuzzy yellow larva sitting on the bird's beak! Open up! It took quite a few tries to get the little fellow to open his mouth, and timing was everything, but he did manage to swallow a couple. Nonetheless, I knew Christina would not be able to save him. I tried to explain gently. "Christina, you are not a mother bird. You can’t feed him day and night for two weeks, as a mother bird does. You need to accept that he’s not going to make it." "Noooo!" my sensitive little one sobbed. "We have to try!" She called a friend to come over and help her, the same friend who was there when they had rescued the other bird. Bird finally opening its mouth. But where's the food? What excitement! Two little blonde heads inclined eagerly over the box. More attempts to feed him again met with lackluster results, and the girls, being little girls, were soon outside playing. It was time. I called them in and told Christina she had to put the bird back. "Maybe his mother will find him and feed him," I suggested, thinking I would just watch the spot, and if he died, I would remove him so she wouldn’t know. Agreeing with the plan, she carried her little charge outside. Two birds open their beaks for food as Christina replaces their sibling Then I thought, "Duh!" I had been so busy with the reporter I hadn’t thought of the obvious. "There must be a nest directly above the spot where he was." Sure enough, well hidden in the bush was a very small nest with two comfortable occupants. "Christina, let’s put him back in the nest and see if his mother will take care of him." So that’s what we did. They did not seem to want to move over, but we left it up to Nature to figure out. A day or two later it actually rained, on and off for several days (hasn’t rained since) so I didn't get to check on him. Less than a week after putting the bird back, I went back out to the nest. One young bird sat on the edge, and as I approached, it fluttered into the ferns below. It could not yet get airborne, but it was definitely within a day of it. I looked around under the nest and found no dead babies. Our little friend had clearly been accepted back and fed, along with its siblings, and was now a healthy young bird. I never would have thought it! So, I guess we now have Empty Nest Syndrome!
Even as I post this, my oldest daughter, Maria the Philosopher, is in the air over the Atlantic, on her way to Rome for the semester! As a mother who loves her and encouraged her in this opportunity, I am thrilled for her. But as a mother who will miss her desperately I say, "BOO HOO!" In honor of her trip, I’d like to share a philosophical conversation we had the other morning. Philosophy means "love of truth," and in the words of the great Mortimer Adler, "Philosophy is everyone’s business." We should all seek truth, but it sometimes takes a little searching. Sometimes a lot! It’s worth it, though. This recent morning discussion, which lasted about 20 minutes, helped me discover something very important – and it wasn’t until she appealed to gardening that I understood. How did it begin? I can’t remember exactly. Oh yeah! Talking about my easy-going husband whose "nature" it is (so I claimed) not to speak up for himself at work. Maria then began "splitting hairs" (so I claimed) on the issue of trying to change a person’s nature versus helping the person to develop his nature better. She argued that they were two distinctly different things, and that the other person could perceive the difference in attitude and would respond either negatively or positively to the "help" based on that perception. I argued that she was simply "playing with semantics," to make one person look good and the other bad. For instance, if a reporter wanted someone to look bad, she would write, "He tried to change the ways of the gentle native peoples," but if she wanted him to look good, she’d say, "He tried to help the natives reach their full potential." To which she responded, "Thank you for clarifying that, because it helps me see that I have not expressed myself clearly to you." (Well! If I’d ever said something so diplomatic to my mother, I think she would have had a heart attack! I’d better not start now. Her heart’s still good, but no sense taking chances.) She went on to say, "It is not merely a semantic difference; I mean two very different things. One’s nature is given by God, to help a person fulfill the work God has given him; it is therefore good. But in this fallen world, weaknesses arise. A person may need help to overcome his weaknesses, which prevent his nature from being all that it can be, but that’s not the same as changing him. A person needs to feel that you are trying to HELP him, not feel like you are trying to CHANGE him. "For instance," (here’s the gardening part) "think of the tall snapdragon. Its nature is to want to get as close to the light as it can. But without a stake, it is too weak and falls over. It isn’t changing the snapdragon’s nature to provide it with a stake, it is helping it reach the full potential of its nature. When it falls over, its head still strains upward toward the light, but it’s now twisted, and is not as close as it could have been, had it gotten that stake." Ah! The light bulb goes on in Mommy’s dull brain. Talk flowers and I get it. Yes, there is a distinction between thinking you need to help a person change his nature and thinking you need to help a person overcome weaknesses that are NOT his nature, but prevent his true nature from developing. Her argument is that, if you perceive (wrongly) that the negative attribute of, say, procrastination, is actually the person’s nature, and it needs to change, the person will resent it. But if you perceive (rightly) that procrastination is a weakness often associated with a deliberative nature (which is a good attribute), and it needs to change, the person will be more receptive. It is the nature of the snapdragon to reach for the light. That will not change. Even when it falls over, it will still reach for the light. But by then it is twisted, and standing it up too suddenly will cause it to break. But if the snapdragon’s nature is recognized, and help is given to strengthen it, the snapdragon can be all that God designed it to be! Too many life lessons here for me to list. I need to meditate on it. Of course, it’s not a perfect analogy, because snapdragons don’t have free will; imagine a snapdragon arguing like a teenager when you try to stake it! Nonetheless, I really think this will help me a great deal. How’s that when your daughter can help you make a fundamental rethink of your entire outlook? I think we’ll keep her. Isn’t this a great picture? I don’t have a fancy camera, just a cheapy one-click digital EasyShare. But in our Okame Cherry, right outside our back door, a pair of robins had built a nest. The tree is still fairly small, maybe 12 feet, so they had to build low, and the silly things flew away yelling at us whenever we walked by. Hey! We were here first! But it gave the children no end of fascination. How excited they were when the babies hatched! "Mommy! I just saw a mommy bird feeding her babies!" Christina came in breathlessly to tell me a few weeks ago. Yes, it’s pretty neat to hear those little babies cheap wildly and see the necks crane as far as they can, beaks like wide open V’s hoping to be the one that food gets dropped into. The girls got to watch that again and again. But here the babies were, not much later, sitting in their nest and gazing around, not looking much different from their parents now, except for the lack of red breast. I was able to get within about five feet and use the close-up feature to get this shot. Christina came up behind me. "Why don’t they fly away?" she asked. "They can’t yet. They’re still too young." I took many shots to assure I got a few good ones, then went inside. The next day, Christina was breathless again. "Mom! I saw the baby birds fly away!" That was quick! "Can I keep the nest?" Ugh! Well, I told her to give the birds a little time, they might still come home for a few days. Besides, I told her, another bird might use the nest. The idea of birds recycling nests was new to her. So, once again, nature had spawned a desire to observe, discover, collect, record. Another good day of building synapses in the brain, and awe and wonder in the heart! The Middletown Grange Fair is running until Sunday, August 22, 2010 in Middletown, Central Bucks Co. PA. (Look up location and schedules at http://grangefair.org/.) There are tons of animals being judged, horse rides, carnival rides, and lots of booths with food and products to buy. But we go for 4H, and for the cash prizes! First, 4H. 4H provides young people from 8 to 18 the opportunity to develop skills in almost every field imaginable: of course, the farming skills, including caring for various animals and growing all kinds of crops, but also a myriad of handcrafts, food projects, small engine repair, shooting sports, fishing, hiking, drama, and so much more. Monthly meetings are run by the youngsters themselves; the first part is a business meeting, (minutes, old business, new business) using ‘parliamentary procedure’. ("I have a motion to… Do I have a second?") The second half is a service project or a really interesting speaker. Our club has had a hawker with his hawk, a soldier, a large animal vet, a glass-blower, and even a troupe of men who dance with bamboo sticks (like in Chitty Chitty Bang Bang)! Once the children complete a project, they are to display it at the Grange Fair. Below are some pictures of some of the many activities available. Click on a picture to make it bigger, and see the caption. I highly recommend introducing your child to 4H. It’s a great opportunity to learn many new things, meet some really good kids, and develop leadership skills. To learn more about 4H and to find a 4H club in your area, go to http://4-h.org/, click the Get Involved tab, and click on your state. Best of Show, Market Basket Now for the prizes! Have you ever seen the movie Babe? Do you remember the wife collecting thousands of ribbons at the fair? Well, that still goes on. Another aspect of the Grange Fair is the opportunity to submit your handiwork for judging and cash prizes. My girls mostly do needlework and crafts, but there is also stiff competition for the best tomato and the biggest pumpkin! Flowers, sheep’s fleece, flower arrangements, woodworking, animals, jam, pie…you name it, they judge it! It’s a terrific opportunity to encourage children (and adults!) to try something new. If your child tye-dies a shirt, or makes a picture out of shells, or creates a playdoh statue, or paints a rock like a dog, submit it! To get a ribbon and a few dollars for your hard work is very satisfying. Below are some more pictures (including Angela's winning quilt and Teresa's winning jewelry! Click to see the captions.) We didn’t get to the animals yet, hopefully we’ll see them on Sunday. I encourage you to come to the Middletown Grange Fair, if you are in our area. For only $10 entrance fee per car, which goes to the fire company, you will have a fabulously fun day! Enjoy the Fair!
Well! Remember that wisteria that I forgave in the spring? I hate it again. And you can see why. I should have attacked it sooner, I guess, but life intervenes, and the cause became desperate. This vine had gotten so large and thick that an eight-foot sumac and a six foot oak were able to grow up in its midst undetected. My first job was to whack at the exterior enough for me to get close! I cut anything sticking out, and chopped down the sumac. Then I attacked the vines wrapped around the gutter heading up to the roof, severing them from their source of life. But that was about all I could do. The leftover vines from last year are still wrapped around the gutter, because I couldn’t reach them and had expected them to deteriorate and fall off. But they didn’t, so I guess my husband will have to get up on a tall ladder to get down the accumulation of growth from the last two years. Sigh. (Or maybe we could get our big grown weightlifting son to do it! Now there’s an idea! Put ‘im to work for all the food I feed him.) Then I went around to the porch and attacked from the rear, getting the vine off from around the post and hacking down the foliage billowing onto the porch and extending out under it. And lo and behold! I found my favorite fork and shovel that had been missing since spring! Now, here is Angela having fun! She discovered one of the very long, multi-stemmed branches that had stretched out under the porch and re-appeared going across the steps and into the next flower bed. It made a perfect whip! She couldn’t resist. She began humming the Indiana Jones tune – "taa ta ta taaa, taa ta taaa…" flipped the whip, and – "OUCH!" you guessed it! The whip got her in the face, just like it got him in the movie! Fortunately, it won’t leave a scar, and she got the hang of it, as you can see. It was dinner time and I left the debris, so after dinner the mess became a playground, as Angela and Christina covered Teresa with the trash, then she rose up like an Ent Wife and attacked! After that they decided to decorate themselves. This resulted in peels of laughter. Even pruning a wild wisteria can be an occasion for wonder! A post will come in the near future with the crafts we will make out of the wisteria cuttings, yet another opportunity for fun from gardening. Well, it has really been a wonder-ful week for the children and nature, highlights being finding the bunny and saving the bird. Just a few more quickies, and next week we'll get back to some other subjects! Corn-husk dolls: Christina and Anna-Grace eagerly husked the corn I brought home from a local farmer, then quickly set about making their own version of a corn-husk family, complete with braided hair and a baby. Captured Cricket: It was Anna-Grace’s turn to be breathless. "MOM! We caught a cricket!" She presented the container to me in the kitchen. As I began to lift the lid, she stated, "Watch out! He jumps REALLY high." BOING! Right out of the coffee container onto the kitchen floor. "See? I TOLD ya!" Then came the joy of catching him, scooping him up carefully, and putting him in a jar with a tinfoil lid. Anna-Grace and her little friend began hopping around, with much the same excitement as after they picked strawberries. "What if you could keep a cricket as a pet?" "Yeah, and what if you could pet him, and then he crawled up on your wrist?" "Yeah! And then, he JUMPED!" Off they went with more what ifs, putting grass and a little bit of water in the jar. After a time of observation, we convinced them to let him go, but it was a fun and memorable find! We found the Ent-wives! A post to come on trimming the wisteria, but I just had to share this picture! The giggles and silliness that accompanied the wisteria mess was well worth making it! This is a "Hawaiian Ent-wife". OK, for those rare few unfamiliar with Lord of the Rings, the Ents are talking trees. And they lost their wives. Literally. Can't find them. I guess they didn't look under the wisteria. That's where I found my... Oh, well, we'll wait for my wisteria post! Lastly, probably my favorite, Geese in Need of a Garmin: Angela and I were outside, when a small flock of geese flew by, really low, honking loudly – going west. Angela looked up, and after a moment’s reflection, called out some un-solicited advice. "You’re going the wrong WAAAAAAY! A little to the left!" Hahaha! Everyone have a restful Sunday! Be back Monday. WELL! I really DO have other things I would like to write about, but when the moments of wonder and learning come in the garden, they must be cherished and shared! This one was almost a tragedy. Christina came running in, breathless. "Mom! We found a baby bird in the pond! It was stuck, with its wings on the rocks and its head under water!" Sure enough, wrapped in a kitchen towel (ew!) was a small, shivering, wet bird. I simply cannot figure out how it got in that predicament. It may have fallen from the side of the pond and was trying to get a foot hold on the rock to climb back out, but got its wings stuck while flapping. However it happened, I told them, "Well, get a box and line it with a rag. It’s probably just stunned and needs some time." I expected it would be able to fly off once it dried.
But when the girls put it in the box, they called again. "Mom! Look at the tail feathers! They’re almost gone!" Sure enough, its little bottom was bare. Feathers had clearly been removed. Had it been attacked by a larger bird and escaped, only to land in our pond? It was something to ponder. Whatever happened, it seemed clear to me that the little guy would probably not make it; it would not be able to fly again and would be easy prey, or we would not be able to care for it well enough and it would die. But Christina and her friend were going to do all they could to save this bird. They put water in a milk cap and gave it some sunflower seeds. Then they went out to the compost heap looking for worms. No luck. (I’m sure they were there, but two 10-year-olds probably couldn’t dig deep enough). So they pulled out a Butterfly Field Guide, looking for plants that caterpillars live on. "Mom? Do we have any milkweed around here? How about poplar?" I suggested the broccoli, since there were three little green critters in the last head I picked. Christina had thought of that, too, but had found none. Well! I told her to check the beans. "Turn over the leaves and get some of the little yellow bugs." Bean beetle larvae ought to be good for something! Success at last! They gave them to the frightened little bird, who of course ignored it all. Then they pulled out a Bird Field Guide to try to identify it. However, a small brown and beige bird could be almost anything. My guess is a young female chickadee, but we’ll never know. Having done all they could, they went about their play for a couple hours. When they returned, they asked if they could take it outside. "Yes, but stay with it! You don’t want a hawk to get it." Out they went. Moments later, that most wonderful word in the world was heard again –"Mom!" What now? "Mom, he flew away! He’s all right! He flew away!" How he flew with that tail I’ll never know, but Christina’s little friend said she saw its tail feathers spread, so it must have had enough left after all. An unexpected happy ending! And a terrific opportunity to learn and experience wonder. They will always remember saving that bird. |
AuthorWelcome to Growing Goodness! This website is dedicated to growing good things, both plants and children. It's a gardening blog with maternal overtones, as I discuss the goodness and value of plants, both wild and domestic. In the process I hope to help you pass a love of nature on to your children. Happy Gardening! Archives
August 2011
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