Sam Davis Home.

On a beautiful summer day, perhaps a touch warm, I took the boys an hour South for the Sam Davis Home Heritage Days. On the amply shaded grounds we meandered between too many stations to squeeze into a day. We visited what looked interesting first and whittled the day away indulgently. I enjoyed the “old-timey” photographer but the boys had little patience for it. We all listened to the candle maker, baker, and butter churner thoughfully. Honest Abe spoke about his boyhood home and chores and how he met Mrs. Lincoln, and the boys walked away saying he “wasn’t so bad after all.”

Let’s see, we also fed chickens, saw bees, wool, pigs, and mules. The boys played baseball with the 1865 rules and league members who play throughout the year. I was asking tons of questions in the shade while the boys sat on the bench and waited their turns in the sun. Why no gloves? (not yet invented) Where do you get the balls? (China… unfortunately) How many strikes and balls per batter? (doesn’t matter) and so on.

The potter was fabulous. We’ve seen him before. He chats away shooting spelling and math questions to the kiddos while they watch pots form in his hands. Then he cuts them loose and shares them around, to smash and shape again.
Stones River National Battlefield brought a cannon to the grounds and drilled the kids like soldiers. The boys liked trying new positions for this as they’ve done (and enjoyed) the drilling.

There was plenty to see and do. The boys liked the baseball best. I laughed as they batted and raced around the bases crying “home run” when they arrived back home. They actually were out at first base, but ignorance is bliss. On that high note, the grounds closed to get the school kids back in buses. We headed off, happy to have seen another Civil War Era site.

Mr. Ten.

He’s ten! It’s crazy to think that ten years ago he was a new babe and our lives were forever changed. Now, at ten, I celebrate his growing independence. I appreciate his awesome logical thinking and advice. I love his quirky sense of humor and giggly laugh when his little brother is egging him on. He’s fabulous help in the kitchen, with great recipe advice. I’m thrilled he can read to me now. Well, of course, my list goes on and on.

Ten is cool. He’s cool. I cannot believe how different a human being can become over ten years. I’m so thankful to be a part of that journey. Happy Birthday, Mr. Ten.

Pedal Tractor Pull.

On our 17th wedding anniversary, we headed south of Nashville to a little town called Eagleville. Last year we discovered this truck and tractor show along with the fun pedal tractor pulls. This year, the boys were amped to try pulling again. Upon entering the grounds, my youngest son propelled us to the sign ups before seeing anything else. While being whisked away, I did notice less flea market and tractors this year, but enough to keep us busy.

Honestly, we spend the majority of the time waiting for the boys to get their names called for pulling. With ribbons in hand, only then would they let us press on.

We wandered the small flea market, drank lemonade, and were thankful for the cooler weather. Really thankful for that cooler weather.

An anniversary with the family is great anywhere. This one turned out to be a nice outdoor day.

Labor Day Weekend.

Long weekends allow us to eek out an extra day’s visit with family, Labor Day was one of these trips. We squeezed in movies, family, food (candy and fancy cupcakes too), birthdays, photos, and shopping. Phew.

In Wisconsin we camped in a tent for a night among corn, large oaks, and lots of silence. It was darn hot, but still fun. With no internet/media, I resorted to a “super balloon” to entertain the boys a bit. They also road their bikes, played in dirt piles, and complained about the heat. Dear Husband suggested a trip into town for some ice cream, which was a mood lifter for sure.

On a sweating sitting break, I was playing around with the camera and tried a setting called “effects.” Well, that’s crazy. That experiment kept us busy for an hour for sure. It created the line drawn corn image. We took tons of shots, but learned that people look really, really silly with this effect. The best shots seemed to be patterned images like the corn.

We spent a couple of nights at my sister’s house too. We walked to the new candy store on main street. My niece and nephew got me to try Toxic Waste candy, which I assure you is sour beyond belief. As I type this, my mouth is watering from thinking about how awful it was. No joke. We also tried some jelly belly candies that could be yummy or yucky and you just can’t know until you pop it down. Hmmm. Petrified I’d get canned dog food, the worst I got was skunk spray. My poor sister got the canned dog food. Entertainment at its finest.

I saw A Walk in the Woods with my sister and nephew at the theater and as a bonus got to see Wild at their house. When you can’t hike, I suppose you watch someone else do it. I was thrilled to see both movies and enjoyed them equally.

We wrapped up Sunday with a birthday party for my older fella and nephew.

At 5:30 Monday morning we woke the boys and shuffled them into the truck for the eight-hour drive home. Arriving home at 2:00 PM is a lot better than 7:00 PM. An hour later they were at their friend’s house playing. Dear Husband and I, however, were sorting through piles of dirty clothes, emptying the cooler and the sort. You better believe we all hit the pillow and crashed that night. Worth it, of course.

Yarn Along: Cabled Blanket and Small Town Adventuring.

Joining the Yarn Along today at the Small Things blog.

Knitting: I’m progressing on my Cascade Eco Blanket. I adore the soft, natural colored yarn, but I can’t decide if I love it more than the pattern that’s appearing. I really love that too. I never understood why people knit blankets, but I have a better idea now. I am not spending my time looking for projects and buying yarn, I’m just happily knitting a few rows each night (most nights anyways), cabling once every 18 of them. That’s grand.

Reading: I’m thrilled to pieces that Bill Bryson’s A Walk in the Woods is a movie and intend to go see it! I read the book when it was first released and loved every snotty remark Mr. Bryson delivers. He can pack a hilarious punch and left a life-time desire for me to pack in and out of some trail with the boys sometime. Anyhow, this nostalgia sparked my current read, also by Bill Bryson, The Lost Continent: Travels in Small-Town America.

I keep texting my friend photos of lines I’m reading because they are too delightful to enjoy alone. Seriously, this man just puts it all out there. This book is about his random travels through small American towns and his musings along the way. He starts in Des Moines, IA , where he was born, with plenty of fun poking at small town people. From there he rambles to his (not-anymore) grandparents house and from there just kind of wandered.

Some random snarky passages:

“A sign just ahead of me said BUCKLE UP. ITS THE LAW IN ILLINOIS. Clearly, however, it was not an offense to be unable to punctuate”

“‘You parked on the square?” she said. Actually, she said, “You pocked on the skwaya?'”

“The average Southerner has the speech patterns of someone slipping in and out of consciousness. I can change my shoes and socks faster than most people in Mississippi can speak a sentence.”

I enjoy Bill Bryson, but I do think I like small town living much more. I hope he comes around a bit in this book, but until then I’ll just file him under “city-lover” and laugh at his insights.

Have you read any of his books? I saw In A Sunburned Country and thought that might be good.

Mammoth Cave Bats.

Loaded with snacks, water, and light coats, late Saturday afternoon we went to Mammoth Cave National Park to watch for bats. The National Park had a special night connecting the public with the scientists who study the bats.

We arrived when it was light to browse the museum and walk around the main area. I always love looking at the old train cars that brought the visitors of yesteryear. We also walked to sunset point and saw the old (new to us) cemetery. After we walked, snacked, and explored we were ready to see some bat research.

Atop the walkway to the natural cave entrance Rangers prevented us from the activities until precisely 7 PM. To keep us occupied they presented facts about bats (their M&M jar featured 1000 candies, about how many bugs a bat eats per HOUR) and answered questions guests had (we enjoyed the preschool boy’s musings about sharks eating bats). This was the hardest part for the boys. They just wanted to get to the night vision goggles.

Finally they were set free to descend upon the cave and see some bats. We were the third group to step down into the natural entrance and try the night vision goggles. I do think the boys could have stayed there the night. The goggles were fascinating, probably more so than the bats they were seeing. We did have to move on and decided to see the volunteers set up “mist” nets to catch the bats. (That does not involve water, it’s actually just a very fine net).

Here is where we waited. It wasn’t quite dark enough to set up the nets, so we talked with some friends and waited some more. I wanted to see this whole process. The boys must know me well enough by now, because they didn’t complain or ask to move on. They waited and chatted. We saw the net roll up and almost a minute later they caught a bat.

The volunteer displayed the wings, explained what type of bat it was, and put it in a brown paper bag to transfer to their research set up. We hustled over to get a great view of the scientists as they identified, collected samples of fur, tagged, searched for white nose syndrome (a very horrible fungus rapidly diminishing their bat population) and so on. My younger son gave me stink eye when I put the camera down, “Mom, they are getting the fur! Take a picture.” I laughed and told him I took about seventy.

Knowing this was a one night per year adventure, I asked the kiddos if there was anything they’d like to try one last time. Night goggles. We went back into the cave and looked for a longer turn as it was the end of the night and the crowd had thinned.

Hiking back up, snacking and drinking, we talked about our night. It’s really fun to stay out late and chat with the boys about what we did. We finished up our audio book on the drive back and settled in for a good nights sleep. Hopefully then the bats got some peace to dine by.

Fortunately.

Like all things in life, chickens have their good and bad bits. Instead of long paragraphs musing on how pretty they are or how bizarre they can be, I’m going to take a cue from a fun book I used to read to the boys, Fortunately by Remy Charlip. And so today my chicken version goes like this,

Fortunately, chicks are inexpensive,

Unfortunately, when they grow feed can be expensive,

Fortunately, they can range and eat wild food,

Unfortunately, they can eat food from our gardens,

Fortunately, they reduced our ticks,

Unfortunately, they spread garden mulch out of the gardens,

Fortunately, they reduced our snakes,

Unfortunately, they can be attacked by wild animals,

Fortunately, they can hide,

Unfortunately, sometimes they hide at the neighbor’s property,

Fortunately, they’ll come home for mealworms,

Unfortunately, they poop a lot, everywhere,

Fortunately, their eggs can feed you,

Unfortunately, you don’t want them to crack before they make it to your table,

Fortunately, they almost never do.

Chickens have been a fabulous addition to our homestead. I say they are akin to gerbils as far as cleaning, watering, and feeding (but that’s an assumption, I’ve never had caged indoor animals before). They go into their coop at night by themselves (wish they could teach the boys this go to bed by themselves routine). They aren’t particularly snuggly, like our dog, but they are curious, responsive, and interesting to watch around the house. A year and a half after we picked up our chicks, I’m a fan.

Lucet Cord.

Not that I need more fiber art crafts, but it’s too darn easy to join in when I have the yarn staring at me and a resourceful husband who can cut tools in his shop. I stumbled into “lucet” online (aka knitting fork) and searched to find an image of this fabulous little device. It’s a hand tool used to make cording that dates back to the vikings. I found this pattern and Dear Husband cut it out for me on Saturday.

After a quick sanding, I put it to work. Initially it felt like spool knitting to me and my cord was lifeless and loose. Then I started getting a feel for it and as you can see a tiny, tight cord started developing. I kept telling everyone to come see it and slid my hand down it again and again.

This was easy to pick up. It’s definitely child friendly, requiring the same movements as spool knitting or finger knitting. The result varies per yarn and tightness. I’m sewing up a jacket for my younger son this week and I’m hoping to make this his cord for his hood.

Cursive.

Twice per week my older son has to practice his cursive writing. He gets to choose the days he does it. He copies a few words and a couple of sentences. Inevitably it gets shoved to the end of the week. He’s just not a fan.

“Why do I have to do this anyways?”

Truthfully, I wasn’t sure I was even going to bother with it. I read an article about how cursive is illegible for teachers and their preference to remove it. That makes sense. I’d not want to read thirty cursive scrawled three-page papers either…ever, let alone weekly. Typing would win in my book.

Then I read an article (ugh I can’t find it anywhere to link it, I’m sorry). It was about an ex-soldier who incurred a brain injury. He was able to write in cursive after the event, but not print at all. It pointed out that cursive writing is stored in a part of the brain separate from printing. This represented cursive as a totally separate skill from writing, akin to another art form completely.

Later, I was volunteering at the local National Battlefield when two kiddos were signing their names on their Junior Ranger booklets. The ranger behind me took note. “That’s a very important skill you have there,” he pointed out as the child wrote her name in cursive. “You know, if cursive writing isn’t taught in schools who will read our country’s historical documents?” That was my second motivator.

If cursive writing is deleted from the school curriculum, and I’m fine with that, I believe it will become an art. Children learn how to knit, sew, fish, and frankly loads of other useful things not taught in schools. I believe cursive would just get added into this pool.

So, I told my son cursive is a way to write with speed, but more importantly it’s a way to expand his mind. It’s also a skill he may have that people around him may not, like calligraphy or weaving or whatever. It’s easy, cheap, and possibly useful. I mentioned the above reasons for clarity.

“Oh. Okay. That sounds good.”

He pressed his pencil down to his paper and started swirling his copywork of the seasons. And while “because it’s good for you” may have sufficed, I think he appreciated the reasoning. This fella is the type that would be proud to offer his abilities if needed. Until then, it’s another little something he’ll have learned along the way.

Favorite Books.

The boys told me that our book selection is basically terrible. We had thinned out a bunch of the “little” kid stories, but I always saved their favorites. So, when we sat and tidied the shelf, I was shocked to hear:

“George – get rid of it, we hate him.”

“WHAT?” My heart lurched. “You would BEG me to read that entire book, there are six different stories in there. You’d make me read every one, sometimes twice.”

Shrugs from the boys.

“Hate this one.” What? Magic School Bus? On the discard pile?

And so on. Enter a “we hate” before a treasured childhood book, rip moms heart out, repeat.

How can this be? What is happening here? This is insanity. They begged me to read these stories time and again. I’d leave dishes in the sink, clothes unfolded, floors unswept, to snuggle and read these exact books.

Sigh. It’s natural human progression happening here and I have no power to stop it. Well, I have a little power. I’ll make a list of their ten favorite toddler/preschool years stories to somehow preserve them and I’ll box those books away to soothe my soul. Their trash, my treasure. (If you’ve followed my tidying posts, yes, these books are getting stored, yes, they “spark joy.”) Don’t get me wrong though, I adore that I can read them Jurassic Park and they actually understand it. It’s all part of this growing journey.

Anyhow, in no specific order, here are the ten most read stories I could have recited by heart a few years ago, which will sadly now be in our garage in a plastic tote.

1. Curious George: You name it, we read it, vintage George, new George, even in Spanish George. Curious George stories were well-loved and received. The New Adventures of Curious George will stay in my box forever.

2. Magic School Bus: I loved Miss Frizzle as a child and loved reading the vintage copies as an adult. The boys enjoyed At the Waterworks and Lost in the Solar System the most.

3. Blueberries for Sal by Robert McCloskey. I adore the front and back inside cover illustration. It reminds me so much of my older son who would carry and wear canning jar rings on his arms as a toddler. The illustrations throughout are beautiful, the story adorable.

4. If You Give a Mouse a Cookie by Laura Joffe Numeroff. I can totally get behind a book that plays on the insanity of raising a little one. The boys laughed at the silly demands of the mouse, while I laughed at how true this story could be.

5. The Glorious Flight Across the Channel with Louis Bleriot by Alice and Martin Provensen. This book is a fabulous motivator. When the kiddos were struggling with failed attempts we’d remember Louis Bleriot who just wouldn’t give up.

6. Little Blue and Little Yellow by Leo Lionni. This book came to us second-hand and tattered. I always thin out books, but somehow, even beat up, this one never made it out the door. Simple friendship and color mixing make a quick, nice story to enjoy.

7. What is Your Language by Debra Leventhal. “What is your language, please tell me now…” Oh sorry, the title made me go into a little a chant. Yup, read this one a LOT. My younger fella particularly enjoyed it. The refrain repeats for multitudes of languages. I guess he liked to hear me try to speak Japanese?

8. Madeline by Ludwig Bemelmans. Another rhymer. I adore the vintage illustrations. The boys enjoyed the story.

9. Mirette on the High Wire by Emily Arnold McCully. My younger son is always there to point out that books with medals on the covers are the winners. (He is also known to draw medals on his own books.) Mirette is a young daring girl ready to take on the high wire and help a man who loses faith in his ability.

10. Just Me and My Mom by Mercer Mayer. Another load of books I loved as a girl and saw the humor in as an adult. Mercer Mayer’s books made quick reads. We loved and owned many of them. I kept the mom one for obvious reasons.

It’s not all sigh and sad though, some loved books made it back on the shelf. In fact, my younger son has followed me around the house with Mine-O-Saur, this week, because we sorted through and it’s been found. I’ll probably share those someday, but I’m okay if it’s in a few years.