Stories Inside Stories: Death, Birth, Transitions

I am thinking about changes and transitions-- about the unexpected and even the surprise within the expected. .. Thinking about life on the homestead and about life's bigger picture --about what went down out at Standing Rock this past week and about reversals to human and environmental protections that are jarring and significant. I am thinking about all of you, getting weary, and I'm sending you some love from the homestead. 

miss you Solita. . . 

Here in a week's span we lost a pig-- a friend-- so unexpectedly.  She was a great cuddler. Our friendliest farm buddy. In the early morning, before we realized she was gone, I woke in the dark, startled by a pig outside my window.  Rousing from deep sleep, I wondered why a pig was loose in the early cold.  Seeing nothing,  I drifted back to sleep. Later, finding her still soft body, and definitely no signs of loose pigs,   I guessed she just floated through to say goodbye,  on her way down her road, on her journey.


And yesterday, after being woken in the night by a pacing,  irritated goat-- I looked to the frozen ground- the coldest in Maine's ongoing vacation from winter,  and thought, of course they'll come today. And surely, they did. Shivery, we dried them and quickly cut up little sweaters to keep them cozy. Of course, life-school took over and the babes had no shortage of warm bodies to hold them until they steadied to this new world.

The death and birth within the few days are meaningful,  reflective of the little stories within bigger stories.  We are on a journey, as change makers and creators, as activists and builders-- and we are seeing setbacks; really awful setbacks-- for our clean and free water, for our wild places, for our citizens, for our democracy. 

And yet, the story isn't finished.  We are writing it still, and when it's ended, there's sure to have been struggle and tragedy but also a great uprising of inner strength,  transformation,  and a deepening, widening love that has found its power in its sadnesses. It won't be a story about that one time we took a stand, lost, and gave up. It will be a resilient story; a healing story. We will see to the birth of a new way-- it will come through the stresses of labor and into the cold dark,  but we will be ready,  waiting for ourselves.

Thanks to the Bangor Daily News for capturing the last picture of Solita alive (first photo, of Shawn feeding pigs-- Solita is the black and white Kune Kune)-- it was a nice surprise to see her looking well just last week, and to get that delivered to my inbox via friends yesterday. 

Read the full article here: 

https://bangordailynews.com/2017/02/27/homestead/happytown-road-community-brings-rural-mainers-together/

The Sweet Spot

We were in the garden, Maizey and I, last Sunday.   Tension seemed to be mounting as we fought off the cucumber beetles-- the little newly transplanted squashes and melons were succombing quickly. Already riddled with holes after only a few hours of lapsed attention, we squished the bugs between our fingers and dug around the little plant stalks looking for the ugly squash bugs (which are too big for finger smooshing, so they are placed with a little prayerful thought, under our shoe).

 

Agnes Nancy Place Litter #2,
Double-wattled Kune Kune boar Jenny x Mahia Love

To temper this violent scene, I should let it be known that we are a pretty non-violent family. We let the squirrels nest in our eves. The birds return each year to their mud nest on the side of our home. The bats have a huge family just under some trim boards. We remove all spiders to the outdoors, or more often, just ignore them. Snapping turtles dig our gardens to lay their eggs.  Still, we make an exception with cucumber beetles, squash bugs, and tomato hornworms (we even typically remove slugs rather than squashing, which I think is pretty generous of us)-- so we sat there, in the evening sun, as the black flies swarmed our heads, the mosquitios buzzed our ears, and the no-see-ums chewed visciously at our ankles--  we sat there squishing bugs.

 

Then we were both looking in the sky, craning our necks into the glare of the setting sun. We could hear them before we saw them-- a redemptive flock of geese overhead--we called to Shawn and Ella to witness this beauty, this perfect V, flying over our perfect life. How often we let the little things ruin an otherwise wonder-filled day, failing to be amazed by irritations and imperfections. Amid this unhappy chore of protecting plants and being a meal for others, there was stunning beauty, holding the balance amid the unpleasant, creating the sense of deep perfection-- made only better because my girl knew it-- looking at me in awe, she said, "THIS has been the best day!" 

 

My girls playing midwife on the homestead-- learning is everywhere!

 

And it WAS a great day-- and aren't they all??  This one, punctuated by our first baby-bat rescue (to be followed by many more), an anticipated skit at church, some family down time in Bar Harbor, the doula experience of newborn piglets and then, the geese overhead!

 






How awesome is it that Ella is out here doing her non-fiction
homeschool reading for the day while covered in piglets?



Our summer days have been filled, thus far, with long days in the garden, work that is exciting, lounging with farm friends (including the newborn piglets), visiting with, and sometimes living with all manner of wild creature--to TODAY, when a swarm of bees flew directly to our home, swirled above our barn, then next to it, and then, like a little tornado, swarmed right into the empty bee hive from last year's attempt at bees. This, only 1 hour after ordering new bees-- and a day before sending payment. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Here is our little tornado-- I told Shawn that I ordered money to fall from the sky on Father's Day, just for him.

 

 

The world is amazing. The small miracles that fill each day abound, if only we are there to honor them. When each day is filled with a sense of  gratitude, when awe and wonder become normal, when each day we search out the thread that weaves love, light, and abundance-- that is the sweet spot. We are so lucky to have found it most days-- and we will keep striving to find it in each moment.

At one week old-- outside sniffing the earth at the Nancy Place Homestead

 

 

Unschooling Explosions

Ladybug enjoys the end of the January thaw at the edge
of the blueberry field. Little adventures are ours to have
when it suits us.Who doesn't love a flexible
schedule filled with adventure and exploration?

We have had some unschooling explosions here on the homestead. We were stumbling along, unsure of our progress-- a little insecure about our direction-- and boom: fireworks!

 

Unschooling is a philosophical approach to homeschool that is primarily child-led and founded on the idea that children were born to learn. It is fueled by a love of learning and a frustration with teacher-forced lessons that can't (by nature of the classroom) or won't (by philosophy) take the time to tease out the unique learning style and inherent gifts of an individual. (Keep in mind that we have both been teachers and Shawn was raised in a teaching family-- this is not criticism, it is the greatest sadness of the very best teachers)

There are all sorts of variants of unschooling-- from the radical totally hands-off approach-- to the gentle child-focused homeschool approach. We fall somewhere in the middle.We don't force, but we do have some expectations. 90% of the girls' work is by choice, but every once in a while we ask that they do something specific. They have never said no, and I doubt that if they did we'd force anything.
We do use the technique of "strewing", in which you place objects, ideas, opportunities, or work in places that they will see it-- or by directly showing them the new material and seeing where they take it. It can take a long time for them to pick something up, but inevitably they do.

 

Turning a gray day around: finding that a young
chicken laid her first egg-- and its blue!

We have progressed a little further into the unschooling philosophy in our second year, although it has still been difficult to fully trust the process. We expect some work in math, non-fiction, and writing each day-- but we try to mostly stay out of what that entails. We don't correct unless asked-- but we are asked! The girls are endlessly engaging us in their studies. It comes from them. Truly.

We've nudged a bit for the memorization of the times tables and we've had late night parent talks fretting over the lack of progress in reading for our youngest and writing for our oldest. Still, we see so much cultivation of a LOVE of learning and an eagerness to explore and understand. We see innovation! They tell us things -- factual things-- that we had no idea that they'd learned. The Battle for Rome. . . How to encourage a successful breeding in your horse. . .  The common names of the most random insects-- the list is endless.

Our biggest joys come from seeing a love of learning that we never knew of; that we didn't come to understand until well into adulthood. It is mindblowing how perfectly built a human mind is for absorbing facts, relationships, language (including music, math, non-verbal), knowledge and wisdom. They have now mastered their times tables, have discovered their writing voices, the youngest has fallen head over heals in love with reading, and they still have time for MineCraft, history, human anatomy, learning the 50 states, violin, piano, and karate-- plus crafts and lots of homestead chores. We don't feel hurried or rushed. They sleep in as long as they like. EVERY DAY. They make their own meals, on their own schedules. They play games without beginning or end. Games with villages, and story lines-- voices, parts, and reflections of all the life skills they are learning. You know, the games we wished we had had more time for. The games the grandparents talk about. We are truly thrilled with the unschooling philosophy. It works for us and our kids are thriving.


She decided herself that it was time to get those states memorized.
I had placed a couple learning apps in her folder both on my phone and
on the Kindle. I did this over last summer.  I also might have mentioned that
I learned my states in 5th grade (she is technically in 4th). A little strewing,
a little challenge--and voila- genius. Here we are, at a department store--
and she stumbles on this.And she pointed to  every.  single.  state.
and told us its name. We had no idea that she'd learned so much.
We are always finding awe.

There are lots of supports for folks wanting a change from system-schooling. Mostly, people worry about how they will do it financially. With my older children, this was a situation for me-- as I was in the middle of a career that I wasn't willing to give up. Finances are always a struggle, but I find that people typically live at their means, so no matter how much money you make, you still can feel like you are struggling. Everyone has to make decisions about what is most important to them. We have decided that keeping our kids at home is one of THE most important things we can do to help them develop into their true selves and to realize their potential for their own version of greatness.

If you are looking for support, try doing some social media searches for homeschooling groups in your area. When I wanted to work out of the home, I was able to find a way, with a homeschooling cooperative. Now, on one income, we make different sacrifices. There is so much going on in homeschooling communities-- something for everyone. If keeping your kids out of public school intrigues you-- find a way. Look to your family, neighbors, or kind strangers (new friends). With an unschooling approach, the kids will be leading the way-- so having a "teacher" isn't necessary.

Change isn't easy because it makes you grow. Growing is hard, at any age, but when children are allowed to grow at their own pace and in their own special way, it does two things-- it shows them how to self-manage and it teaches them self worth/self-trust/self-love. I believe that these traits are becoming obsolete in the general population. These traits, however, are thriving in homeschoolers and in certain types of alternative, private schools. Nurturing a child's sense of self, in any environment, is a recipe for success. For us, the unschooling approach is the clear winner since it also gives us, as parents, a little time to remember our own sense of self. I think. I'm trying to remember. Those sleepless years still seem to have me wandering :).
 



 

catching up

It's been a long while! I have many photos to post and stories to tell about this summer's Nancy Place Farm Recovery Act, but we have been so busy canning the bountiful harvest that I haven't had time to begin! Today, I will re-open the blogging door by posting Ella's story, her first finished piece of homeschool writing for 2012. This "publishing" has been the much sought reward for all her hours of hard work. Enjoy her little tale and please let her know if you enjoyed it when you see her.

Layers of Here

To be part of here is to become intimately aware of the intelligence of the tiniest of individuals, of the patterns of relations and seasons, and of how it all works together. It is a process, never ending, of observation, realization, and letting go. Letting go? Letting go of all of our assumptions, of what we’ve been told is true, of what we should feel or not feel.  Learning is layered, change is layered, growth; time; truth. . . all layered.

 Here are some snippets of discoveries over time:

Cucumber beetles: The dreaded beetle, so destructive, brings out our powerful crushing fingers in full force (all hands on deck!), but did you know that this beetle is super smart?? It knows to “play dead” it senses the human predator coming from afar (leading us to learn to “sneak “up on it!!), and it hides well in spite of its bright colors.

Aphids and ants:  Through observing the ants and aphids on our tall sunflowers we could see that it appeared that the ants were “farming” the aphids. We could see that there was a large any who appeared to be protecting the aphid eggs on the underside of the large sunflower leaves. The ant acted aggressively toward us as we tried to smoosh the aphid eggs, so we started watching more closely.  We watched over a period of time, and could never quite figure out the motivation. The ants were obviously protecting—and appeared to maybe even be ‘raising’ the aphids—even ‘babysitting’ the newly hatched aphids. Wild. Farming by most definitions! Just recently, as I searched for more information about gardening in the Costa Rican mountains, I came upon the unlikely answer:

 Side by Side: Animals Who Help Each Other.

“Tiny green garden insects called aphids make honey in their bodies from the plant juices they drink. Ants “milk” honeydew from the aphids almost like a farmer gets milk from a cow. Using it’s antennae, an ant gently strokes the back of the aphid. Out oozes a drop of delicious honeydew for the ant to sip.” The benefit for the aphid for putting up with being milked all the time is that the ant will protect the aphid from predators.

Songbirds: Returning from Alaska in May gave us a late start at the farm. Our feeders had been empty for months and the songbirds had already been returning long before we set foot at the Nancy Place. Have you ever been stared down by a songbird? It’s very guilt inducing. The little purple and gold finches would sit at those empty feeders diligently and stare directly into our kitchen. Sometimes they even clung to the windows to stare more directly at us. Believe it or not, sometimes the little birds would look at us, then look at the feeder, then look at us. . .a very clear message!

Farm animal love: Its often where you don’t expect it! The guinea guy who loves the rooster, the ducks who’s rather be with the goats, the chicken who roosts on the Highland Cow, the pig who follows the gelding everywhere (even on trail rides! RIP Fiona Rainbow) or the turkey hen who is only two steps away from her little farm girls.

Sex: There is no end to the sexual lessons in nature. We have seen true love, indifference, fear, rape, gang rape, homosexuality, sexual oblivion, masturbation, dripping wet lust, and intricate mating rituals. Each animal, from the smallest of insects to the large farm animals to the wildest of birds has its own unique style to add to the world’s composite of sexual energy. Dance, song, patterned rituals. . .  dark & fearful; loving and beautiful; purposeful and brief. From the goat who sucks himself, to the mare who can’t contain her infatuation, to the rapist duck who holds her down for the next drake, to the intimate love of the wild geese or the crazy dance of the woodcock. . . its all here, even the cucumber beetles are oblivious to the crushing fingers as they lose themselves in the dead and dying zucchini leaves.  Sex becomes normalized for children growing up on a homestead. It’s not taboo or this silly gossipy thing to spread rumors about. It’s just part of everything—and that’s ok.

Children and nature: Being outside from a young age undoubtedly nurtures a different child. Away from television and video games, children notice the environment—even relish its changes, both bold and subtle. They learn to nurture the wild, cultivate the tame, find adventure at every corner, and overcome boredom.  Our girls hear the peepers, remember the nesting geese, look forward to June’s turtle visits, ask for seeds to plant, run home from school just to see chicks and goats, and, most importantly, notice changes in their environment—often even ones that we adults have overlooked.  Ella finds the random nest of duck eggs and is the first to notice the newly bloomed flower.  Maizey finds new caterpillars everywhere and applies what she reads in books to her outside experiences. She’s even explained to us that to leave the farm to all the children will only ensure its ultimate demise. She explained that she’d rather give up her share than see it divided. What an amazing little mind!

New things: Every year we find a species never before seen (for us) and often ones that we can’t find online or in books. Sometimes I’ve even contacted experts who have been totally stumped. Sometimes it’s a flower, once I saw a worm as thin as a strand of hair (and about as long), sometimes it’s a new insect.  Once it was a new mushroom that eventually the mushroom guy agreed must be portabellas, (they don’t grow in Maine— EVER) — so we took a risk and ate them (yum!).  We have new birds come each year, so our feeders are alive with color and surprise. We also have new plant species that appear here randomly—this year we have elderberries that have sprouted everywhere and one year it was an amazing rose bush.  In short—there is always something new, and if you let it be, its amazing. 

Even the cycles that you come to expect each year, will be new after a long winter or a hot summer. We look forward to the ripening of the apples, the first snow, early spring’s dripping trees, the tinkle of the thawing brook, and the return of the peepers, wild geese, and nesting turtles. Life is so full.