The Autodidact

The other day I picked all the apples that were on our little apple tree. They weren't perfect specimens, as you can see, but they were sweet and begging to be put in a pie. See the 'J' in the middle of the pie? That's for my husband, who planted the apple tree. Apple pie is one of his favorites, and though I don't like apple pie, I am happy to make it for him. The kids enjoyed it too, of course. Here's the recipe: 6 or 7 apples, cored and sliced thin. No need to peel. 1 cup sugar (I used a combination of Sucanat, stevia, sugar and xylitol, but use what you have) 2 tablespoons flour 1 teaspoon cinnamon dash each of cloves and nutmeg 5 pats of butter Mix the apples with the other ingredients except the butter. Pour into a pie crust and place the butter on top. Top with a second pie crust, and poke holes or make a pattern in the top crust. Bake at 400 for 45 minutes or so. You can brush the top crust with egg white

It was a rough night for me. The 4 year old had a bloody nose and woke us up for help. Then he was scared of his own room so we let him get in our bed, and he couldn't settle down right away, then his nose started up after I was asleep for a while: the night seemed to never end. I'm too old for nights of interrupted sleep, I told myself at 7 this morning. Maybe I'll just sleep in and start school later. Mornings like this I wish they could just march off to the local school and I could go back to bed. But no. So I got the day rolling, breakfast served and cleaned up, teeth brushed and beds made and school books (and students) at the table on time. I think I may have dozed off a couple of times, but we plugged away. We didn't have quite enough time to start anything else before lunch, as I had hoped, since Latin lessons went longer than usual. And then it happened. A question from the 8 year old: "Why do we study Latin grammar, and not just the words and how to sp

A whole week all to myself. It passed much more quickly than I expected. Some reflections: Oddly, when the house was empty, I found it a bit harder to breathe than when it's full. I could hear the mantle clock ticking and chiming, the dog snoring, birds singing and cars from far away. I could even hear myself think. As much as I enjoy the hustle and noise of 7 kids, I really  enjoy quiet surroundings. I have more friends than I realized; I spent time with several of them over a meal or on the phone. I love my house, but with everyone gone, that's all it is. Home really is where the heart is, and mine was with my husband and kids all week. Reading C.S. Lewis' The Abolition of Man  was easier to understand without interruptions or any responsibilities distracting me. Not being touched or hugged for a week felt weird. It made me wonder how many people in this world go through much of their lives without touching or being touched. It was fun to be able to come a

My family left at 5:09 am yesterday. I watched them drive off in the dark morning, feeling as though parts of my body were being torn from me. I had not slept much the night before, but I could not sleep after they left; weary and bereft, I could not get out of bed. I couldn't eat anything until dinner. I spent the day keeping busy, but longing with all of my heart to be with my family. My back injury was just not healed quite enough for me to join them and I was left behind in an empty house. The next day was better; a good night's sleep did a world of good. I have been busy today too, and feeling more like myself, but I am thinking of them almost all the time. My life is wrapped up in eight people, living with them, loving them, taking care of them. This house, as nice as it is, is really not much of a home without them. And it got me to thinking about my heavenly home as well, and how I do long to be there. But am I longing to be there as much as I long to be with my husba