My favorite thing about homeschooling has to be the day every now and again that we throw academia to the wind and do the things in life that really matter. Or at least, so I would argue. Case in point: strawberry picking. I decided yesterday that the letter Rr, Gilgamesh, and composing number sentences could wait. Fine weather and ripe strawberries could not.
I totally made the right decision.
The most delicious end.
Strawberry season is short and very, very sweet, so check out www.pickyourown.org for a farm near you!
Let's just admit it. All families are unique. Different. Individual.
I'll go ahead and call a spade a spade. Mine is just plain weird. Or so I assume the neighbors must think. We raise chickens in the burbs. Our shrubbery consists of things like blueberries. My eldest makes costumes from bones.
That's right. I came home from errand running to find him striking warrior poses in the driveway and wearing assorted bovine skeletal remains. Then, I came out to take pictures. It seemed like a photographic opportunity if there ever was one. I kid you not, traffic slowed.
Oh, well. Who wants to be normal when you can be a ninja warrior?
The headdress, creatively fashioned from a pelvic bone.
A rib bone dagger.
His other weapon was a surprisingly aerodynamic boomerang, or as it is more commonly called, a jaw bone. It did not return when thrown.
Oh, and look. He decorated. He seemed genuinely hurt and disappointed when I did not see its decorative value.
In an attempt to salvage what good standing we have left, I put it away. I figure there will be plenty of other future opportunities for us to raise concern among neighbors.
Spring has sprung in our little backyard farm, and life is in full bloom around here. We have some unseasonably warm and record setting temperatures to thank for our early season, and although my cauliflower doesn't seem to care much for the heat, I do. These are the days I love. Coffee on the patio. Half naked children squealing in the backyard. Bouquets of dandelions. Pesky dandelions. Fresh food. Farmers markets. Swimming. Golden tans. And pregnant bellies.
That's right. A pregnant belly. All the rage this summer. Or haven't you heard?
My pant size is currently the most rapidly growing item in this whole homegrown venture. It isn't as lovely or as delicate as the pictures below, so we'll not harp on it. Or how totally nauseating dog farts smell during the first trimester. Or how nice and cold and welcome the smooth porcelain of my toilet feels at any given hour of the day. Or how obsessively delicious seedless watermelon and nacho cheesy Doritos have become. Don't tell me what's in them. I don't want to know. I can only concede that it was a fatal attraction and moment of weakness on the chip aisle. End of story.
Come fall, however, we'll be downright wallowing in homegrown beauty and lovesickness. But, in the meantime, let me give you the more pleasant side of spring.
Tubs of Potatoes
It appears there is new growth at every turn, and it is shaping up to be a bountiful summer.