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...

My neighbor picks me up to take me to my chiropractor's office. All the way, I am telling myself it's a mistake, there's no way I can walk home, my back is too stiff today; I should have cancelled the appointment and stayed home. We can hardly see the road because the rain is pouring so hard. I'm in and out pretty quickly and the downpour has abated to a steady, persistent rain. One foot in front of the other, I tell myself. Take it slowly. You can do this. Not much traffic during this mid-morning walk. Going against my inner nature to walk as fast as I can, I stroll out of the business area of the town, and I notice all the flowers in the front yards. Everything is green and fresh, eagerly soaking up the much needed water. I can see the houses up close and I notice details that I never see when driving. The fire truck drives by and pulls into the fire station. A woman sits on her porch, sipping coffee, enjoying the quiet and the rain. I turn down a side street and thun...

It's been 12 days since I hurt my back (again). Days of steroids, pain killers and muscle relaxers, and not being able to anything but pace the house or lie flat on my back (no sitting allowed!). I confess, I gave into feelings of despair, and uselessness. I had gobs of energy (except for that back pain) but no way to use it. Sigh. I am not a very patient person, and from time to time my back forces me into inactivity. Thankfully, my back has started to heal and I felt well enough to enjoy a lovely summer day with my family. Yesterday was a perfect day: sunshine and breezes and a walk to the creek. Jay was able to get home early enough to take us to the pool for an after dinner swim. I was not up to getting in the water, but thoroughly enjoyed watching the kids play with their dad, while I chatted with my two oldest kids who were working at the pool last night. And I realized that we were all together, in the same place. Those days are few now, but when they do happen, I am thankfu...

My husband loves to garden. He would love to move out to the country, have a huge garden and maybe some chickens, and perhaps a cow. But we are planted in the city, so to speak, and he manages to grow a nice variety of vegetables. Every February, he pores over seed catalogs and dreams of his next garden. He plants his seeds indoors while there is still snow on the ground, and when he comes home from work each night, he checks on his seedlings, adjusting the temperature of the room, the lighting and air flow. His workshop in the basement is transformed into a greenhouse of sorts for the last few cold months of the season. When it gets warm enough, he tills the soil and brings his seedlings outside to his cold frame, or plants the hardier early plants.  The kids look forward to this every year; the garden goes from being full of potential: to being full of life!  I find things like this on my kitchen counter: And I find little people in ...