Big Family Dinner

My mother and most of her siblings attended a Nyberg family reunion last weekend in Missouri. Since my aunt was flying in from Washington, D.C., she came back to Mom's for a few days. At some point last week, they decided to stop in Rockford and pick up my grandma and her husband, Roy and bring them to Mom's for a few days.

Which led to a flurry of e-mails to cousins and family living within a two-hour-drive radius. "Please come to Mom's for a potluck Monday night to see Grandma and Roy and Aunt Bev. Bring a dish."

(My cousin, Lindsay, ever the over-achiever, brought two fantastically delicious salads.)

Uncle Dave and Aunt Lyn (who couldn't attend the reunion) drove down from Sheboygan just for dinner. They brought Joel with them - freshly home from a tour in Iraq. We were all glad to see him - especially Grandma and Roy.

Tim and Lindsay and Kelsey and Ryan came from the far corner of Lake County. Uncle Neil and Aunt Rebecca decided to take a short detour and stay for dinner too.

We were missing many - Matthew, Pam Gideon & Charis (in Boston); Erik & Meghan (in Sheboygan); Daniel (in Door County); Natalie (at a summer class in Chicago); Andrew (in Battle Creek); Troy, Molly, Elijah, Priscilla, Ben, & Mary (in Chesterton); Carrie (in Chicago).

When I look at the list, it looks like more people missed than made it to dinner.

But what fun we had - laughing, telling stories, taking pictures.

I told Uncle Neil retirement becomes him. He told more jokes last night than I think I've heard in my entire life combined. Then, he washed the dishes. The first time I've ever seen him do that, so of course I had to commemorate the moment.

Over the weekend, my sister recounted a conversation she had about her family. "How do I describe my family? Well, it's so functional, it's dysfunctional."

True. We know, and love, so many of our extended family (my parent's cousins, aunts and uncles) I remember spending an entire hour with a second-cousin trying to put together all the family connections.

(Just don't tell Cousin Dean, who happened to be preaching during that particular hour.)

Let's Celebrate All Year

A milestone birthday is worth celebrating all year long. Thursday night I left my family in the suburbs and took the train to my sister's condo in the city. Friday morning, Molly and Beth joined us for a day of eating, and walking, our way through another birthday celebration.

We started at Ann Sather's - the cinnamon rolls! the amazing French toast!

Then walked to, and through, the Museum of Contemporary Art. Carrie wondered if it was worth it - but we saved the best exhibit for last. Success after all!

Then to Carrie's excellent recommendation for dinner - Ciao Amore. Oh. my. word. If you think you've had excellent Italian food, you haven't until you've eaten at Ciao Amore. The Gnocchi are a-maz-ing. So good, so fun - we spent three hours over dinner. Magnifique! (OK- that's French, but I don't know Italian.)

We brushed aside the waiter's recommendations for dessert - we were headed to Margie's Candies! Yummy Terrapins, hot fudge sundaes - the perfect ending to the perfect day.

When can we do it again?

No Biking in the House Without a Helmet

Who can pass up a book with such a crazy title as No Biking in the House Without a Helmet? I sure can't.

I checked it out of the library, then almost returned it without reading it. But we were going on a weekend trip, so I thought I'd give it a try - and am I glad I did.

In No Biking in the House, author Melissa Fay Greene tells the story of her family - her four biological children, and her five adopted children.

Greene has a great sense of humor, and I appreciate her honesty in telling the good, and bad, about international adoption. She tells about the struggles with her oldest daughter, about the difficult adjustment to including the adopted children in their family, and her fear of becoming a group home instead of a family.

When I read this book, I thought of my friend Beth, who recently adopted a little girl from Ethiopia (after adopting three boys from Korea). I happened to see her this weekend (what a treat!), and mentioned the book to her. She had read it too, and loved it.

I have not adopted internationally, and do not plan to, but I enjoyed this book immensely. Whether you adopt, or don't adopt, No Biking in the House is an honest, and very funny, look at what makes a family and the struggles in raising teenagers.

Sea Glass

This summer, I'm hosting a weekly book club. We're reading You Matter More Than You Think by Dr. Leslie Parrott. I wasn't sure I would like this book, even though I picked it out, but it's turning out to be much better than I thought it would be.

One thing I like about it is Dr. Parrott's vulnerability. She's included some of her own poetry in the book, which normally I would skip. But Poetry Wednesday has taken hold of me, so I'm always looking for good poems.

I particularly like this poem. And although Poetry Wednesday has taken a summer hiatus, I'm sharing it with you anyway.

Lately I'm obsessed
With sea glass.
Every piece I find
I collect in a jar,
Marveling at the translucent hues
Browns, greens, blues, and milky whites.
If I didn't know better
I'd think I'm on a quest.
To gather what bits remain
Of my youth.
To discover meaning
In random fragments
Of dreams, goals, connections, experiences
Pummeled
By the velocity of time
Against reality rocks.
If I didn't know better
I'd think I am, simply
The jar
Hoping against hope
I can collect my life
Into a treasure.

The Penderwicks at Point Mouette

If you've asked me for a good family book recommendation recently, you've probably heard me rave about The Penderwicks by Jeanne Birdsall. My children and I loved the first two books (The Penderwicks and The Penderwicks on Gardam Street) and anxiously awaited the release of the third.

I'm happy to tell you The Penderwicks at Point Mouette is available now - and it does not disappoint!

In the most recent book, the Penderwicks are split up. Dad and Iantha (with Ben in tow) are in England for a honeymoon. Rosalind is heading to New Jersey for two weeks with a friend. That leaves Skye, Jane and Batty in Aunt Claire's care for two weeks - and they're headed for Maine. The great hope is that Jeffery will join them for the two weeks... but his mother is their nemesis and may not let him go.

With Rosalind in New Jersey, Skye is now the OAP, Oldest Available Penderwick. Skye is not used to being in charge, and the responsibility of caring for her younger sisters - especially Batty - is stressing her out. Then she loses her all-important list of things to remember. How will she ever enjoy this vacation?

The Penderwicks at Pointe Mouette is just as delightful as the first two books - full of everyday adventures and roller coaster relationships. And one huge, amazing revelation. Do not read this book unless you have read the first two.

And if you haven't read the first two, what on earth are you waiting for??

Growing a Farmer

My husband is trying to understand my new curiosity about farming. I don't understand it myself, but I keep reading books about people who farm.

I especially like the books written by people who had a childhood similar to mine - suburban without even a garden. I loved the first book I read, The Dirty Life. (click to read my review)

So, when I saw Growing a Farmer: How I learned to Live Off the Land by Kurt Timmermeister, I picked it up at my local library.

Timmermeister started his career as a chef, then moved to owning several successful restaurants in Seattle.

Quite by accident, it seems, he ended up buying some acreage on an island in the Seattle area. In Growing a Farmer, Timmermeister documents his journey from urbanite to farmer, the lessons he learned, the mistakes he made and how he made his farm a success. For now.

I really enjoyed this book. I admire Timmermeister's tenacity and determination in starting his farm. I appreciate his honesty about his farm, his mistakes, and the difficulties of life as a farmer. It's hard to not make farming sound idyllic, yet Timmermeister succeeds, in some ways, by giving an honest look at the hard, unrelenting work it takes to create and run a farm.

Of course, Timmermeister loves what he does, and his passion shines in this book. So, parts of his life sound idyllic. And it's easy, as a reader, to brush over the years and years of hard work he's put into his land, since he writes about twenty years of life and work in a mere 312 pages.

If, even after reading the whole book, you're inclined to start your own farm, Timmermeister gives a thorough bibliography at the end of books he's found irreplaceable.

Wauconda

Monday we spent the afternoon at the beach - pictured above. Tuesday the kids spent the afternoon in their second-cousins' pool. Today, we're hoping to dash out to the beach again before the storms hit and the temperatures dive. Most kids are ready to go, we're just waiting for the piano tuner to finish with our piano.

But, before I run off to get ready myself (read: shorts, t-shirt, good book and comfy chair), I wanted to give my offering for poetry wednesday.

This week, I am being bold and daring, and offering up a poem of my own creation. (Gasp!)

Our library is holding a contest to write a story (or poem or ditty) about Wauconda. There are prizes involved, so I did not need much convincing to write something. Amazingly enough, a poem nearly flew out of my figures. With a little revision, I even got it all to rhyme, although my rhythm is sometimes off.

Here it is (please, please! be gentle):

Wauconda Questions
Michelle Leichty

How did Wauconda get its name?
Why isn’t the lake named the same?
These questions haunted me
Most of my life.
Admittedly, they didn’t cause me much strife.

Lake Zurich is a town directly to our south.
“Let’s swim in Lake Zurich!” the residents shout.
Was that their town’s founders’ creative best?
I wonder the same about Island Lake, a town to our west.
Even further west, residents go down
to swim in Crystal Lake in Crystal Lake town.
To our northeast, Grays Lake graces Grayslake.
Why, in Wauconda, is it not Wauconda Lake?

In school I learned Justus Bangs settled here.
He built a fine house and lived here all year.
The children who lived here attended a one-room school
Where the teacher used Cobb’s Speller as one of her tools.
Well, that explains the name of our lake -
Although I don’t think Bangs owned all of Bang’s Lake.

What about the name of our lovely, fair town?
Why didn’t they call it Bangsville or Bangstown?
Instead we have a difficult-to-spell name:
Wauconda. Unusual? Sure. Different? Yes.
Only one other town shares our name in the US.

Tradition says an Indian chief is our town’s namesake.
He might be buried somewhere by the lake;
Though his grave is forgotten, his name has lived on.
Though the spelling of it? Yes, the spelling is wrong.
Chief Wakanda! remembered the leaders of our village.
But spell? No they couldn’t, no matter their heritage.

So Wauconda was founded. And so it grew.
Over ten-thousand residents - amazing from so few.
Two hundred started here in 1850.
Limestone, a mill, a stage coach, a smithy,
Wauconda boasted three stores in the 50’s.

Now we’ve grown larger, and have businesses aplenty.
And we’re not the only town mismatched - namely
Just to our east, practically just down the street,
Mundelein residents swim at Diamond Lake Beach.

Trees

I apologize for being rather MIA the past couple of weeks. We finished school, took a big, ol' field trip, cleaned bedrooms, and entertained guests.

To catch up a bit: The first order of business after school was a promised field trip to the Museum of Science and Industry in Chicago, with a stop at Navy Pier after to wait for rush hour to be over. We all had a great time.

At the U-505 exhibit

On the plane

Posing for pictures

Enjoying the gardens at Navy Pier

After the fun, we worked, worked, and worked at cleaning the children's bedrooms. We had three times the usual amount of trash and recycling that Friday because they had squirreled so much away in their rooms. Yikes! The good news was that everything was ready for Grandpa and Grandma to visit for Memorial Day weekend.

Unfortunately, I forgot to get out my camera. So, here are some pictures from the 60th Annual Wauconda Memorial Day Parade (the largest and longest-running in Lake County, in case you're wondering).

can you believe it? they had tractors!

Grandpa and Grandma enjoying the parade.

Over the weekend, Grandma admired our lovely new tree, planted last summer. That, in combination with the return of some of our schoolbooks from a friend who borrowed them, inspired today's poetry wednesday selection.

Trees
Sara Coleridge

The Oak is called the king of trees,
The Aspen quivers in the breeze,
The Poplar grows up straight and tall,
The Peach tree spreads along the wall,
The Sycamore gives pleasant shade,
The Willow droops in watery glade,
The Fir tree useful timber gives,
The Beech amid the forest lives.

Nice little poem, but nothing about our maple tree. Autumn Blaze Maple it is. I'll post pictures of the bright leaves this fall.

I'd Leave

I'm feeling again my inadequacies of actually posting a poem for Poetry Wednesday.

My friends who also post love poetry - or love someone who does - and find beautiful poems to fit the moment.

I am not like them. On most Wednesdays, I find myself searching the poetry books I read to my children for school, looking for something, anything, to fit the mood, the weather, the time of year.

This is the situation today. A cool, dreary, threatening-to-rain day at my house. A day in which the hormones seem to surging in my 13yo - and it 'ain't purty.'

I found myself once again, wondering what I would write about, where I would find a poem. This is our last week of 'full-time' school (math, Latin, spelling continue through the summer) - could I find a poem about the end of school? Nothing.

It's spring, almost summer, but feels more like early April - perhaps this poem about April rains would do. But no, at the end it says, "I love the rain." Today I definitely do NOT love the rain.

Then, I happened upon this tiny, little poem. It fits my mood, it fits my house (right now) - and so I offer my modest poem:

I'd Leave
Andrew Lang

I'd leave all the hurry,
the noise and the fray
For a house full of books
and a garden of flowers.

(I have a house full of books, no garden full of flowers, and noise & fray galore. I'm thinking of escaping to my mother's house - plenty of quiet, books and flowers.)

The Sound of Music, World War 2 and Hitler

I've been reading quite a bit about the time before and during World War II. I guess it naturally comes after the Great Depression kick I was on a little while ago.

Whatever the reason, I've really enjoyed the books. The first book is Agathe von Trapp Memories Before and After The Sound of Music by Agathe von Trapp, the oldest daughter from the Von Trapp family of The Sound of Music fame.

And yes, her name was Agathe, not Liesl. And really she was the second-born. Her brother was the oldest.

Those are just some of the facts Agathe sets straight between real life and the movie version of her family's story. She admits she had a very hard time when the musical, then movie, were released because the producers took such liberties with her family's story.

The most difficult was the portrayal of her father, a loving, warm-hearted man. Yes, he did use a whistle to call them, and she explains why. She also writes about Maria, her second mother, who was only eight or nine years older than Agathe herself when she married Georg, Agathe's father.

Their life and escape from Austria wasn't nearly so dramatic as the movie's portrayal, but it is interesting. I enjoyed reading this book about the history of their family, their life in Austria and then in America, and about Agathe's coming to terms with The Sound of Music.


Agathe's book focuses on her family and not on Germany, Hitler and the politics of pre-war Europe. However, Erwin Lutzer's When a Nation Forgets God certainly does.

Lutzer draws seven lessons from Germany's descent into Nazism for today's American reader. He explores Germany's economy, legal system, and the Nazi propaganda, among other things. Lutzer's writing style is easy to read and engaging - and while some of the conclusions he draws are alarming, he always gives his readers hope.

When a Nation Forgets God is a short book, but well-researched, well-written and worth reading.

In Awe of You

As I type this, a storm is rolling in. We are seeing lightning, hearing thunder, and are about to experience a big, ol' downpour.

My kids are in the living room, listening to Adventures In Odyssey (The Novacom Saga, in case you're curious) and building with Duplos.

They are lobbying for a movie after dinner (maybe something on Netflix Mom!) because what else do you do when it's storming?

Meanwhile, I'm almost ready to pull dinner out of the crock pot. Just another ordinary day in the Leichty house.

This week for Poetry Wednesday, I want to share a poem with you that a friend wrote. Mom and I lead a Bible study at our church, and last Thursday we asked a couple of ladies to share for our last meeting. This is what one of them shared:

In Awe of You
by Audrey Marie Hessler

That You could create the glorious heavens,
That Your hands hold time and eternity,
That You give and know every breath of life,
And still care about the small world of me.

That You knew mankind from the beginning,
Seeing each of us for who we truly are.
That You would come and live here among us,
And not just watch silently from afar.

And again, again I am reminded
How great a God, how great a God You are!
That You would know the story of Jacob
As You know so well the story of me,
Then love us, is a marvel much greater
Than the mystery of eternity.

So I stand in awe of You, Lord, again.
Thank you, Oh, thank you for loving all men.
Without You, Lord, how hopeless we would be.
Thank you, Oh, thank you, Lord for loving me.

A poetic reflection on the study "Loved by God" by Liz Curtis Higgs.

Mother's Day

My husband asked what I wanted to do for Mother's Day. My answer was immediate:

1. Giordano's Pizza after church
2. Family walk on the Millennium Trail
3. A big, ol' uninterrupted nap

Amazingly enough - I got my whole list! I forgot to pull out the camera to show you my favorite, yummy, gooey stuffed pizza from Giordano's. (It totally blew my 'diet' and put on the couple of pounds I had lost last week, but it was oh SO worth it!)

Then we hiked a part of the Millennium Trail - which I had never been on before, despite its close proximity to our house. Glen figures we walked nearly three miles - the kids were exhausted - but good sports. Bonus - a jogger stopped long enough to get a picture of our whole family.

Then, at home, I laid down and got a nap. Not a big, ol' nap, but an uninterrupted one.

It was lovely.

Isaac made flowers for me in Sunday School. I think his teacher asked him to write on the flowers what he appreciates about me. Apparently, I'm a "Great Cook" and a "Grat Tucker Inner" (as in bedtime) and a "Grat Sewer." (By the way - it's sew-er, as in sewing machine. Not sewer as in waste management. I was confused for a moment too.)

But the best gift of the day came about 8pm. Glen and Nathaniel worked on cleaning up the living room (including sweeping), and then they folded the first load of laundry out of the dryer - the dreaded 'whites' load. Bless them!

(Lest you think I have an angelic 13yo - Glen took the initiative. Nathaniel was an unwilling participant. I'm appreciative none-the-less.)

Persevere

As I went looking for some books to review on my kid's book review blog, I came across this poem which I really love.

I found it in The Children's Book of Virtues edited by William J. Bennett.

Persevere

The fisher who draws in his net too soon,
Won't have any fish to sell;
The child who shuts up his book too soon,
Won't learn any lessons well.

If you would have your learning stay,
Be patient - don't learn too fast;
The man who travels a mile each day,
May get round the world at last.

What a great reminder! I remember starting on my homeschooling journey, thinking how overwhelming the stack of books looked and wondering how we would get through them all.

One book at a time, that's how. Little bits each day over the past eight years have added up to hundreds of books read together, many more than once as my younger children started school. Now, as high school looms on the homeschool horizon, I sometimes wonder, "How?"

One day at a time. One subject at a time. One book at a time.

And in ten years, I will look back at our family's journey amazed at the distance we traveled.

Read more poetry here for Poetry Wednesday.

The Dirty Life

On the Farm
Anne Perez-Guerra

Horses in the pasture lot,
A windmill whirling 'round,
Apples on the orchard trees
Tumbling to the ground,
Cattle grazing 'long the road,
Porkers in a pen,
Chickens scratching near a coop
Where lives the mother hen.
Sliding down a stack of straw,
Jumping in the hay,
When I'm on the far, I go
Barefoot all the day.

I have this idyllic dream of living on a farm, growing my own food and raising chickens and milking cows.

When I tell my husband about it, he laughs. Then he looks at me very seriously and says, "You think you want a farm. But you do not want a farm."

And he should know. He grew up working on his grandparent's and uncle's farm. His parents own five acres - they rent out three to a neighboring farmer. When he was a boy, my husband's parents would bring cows from his grandparent's farm to graze the other two acres. It cut down on the mowing.


But farms still fascinate me. I hate getting my hands dirty, but I like reading about others who do. Kristin Kimball writes about her amazingly quick transformation from city girl to farm girl in The Dirty Life: On Farming, Food, and Love.

Kimball's transformation is a great story. I find it amazing that this freelance writer gave up Manhattan to move north and start a farm. Not just any farm, but a tractor-free farm, designed to provide all the food people would need. In addition to raising vegetables, Kimball and her husband milk cows (by hand), raise beef cattle, pigs and chickens.

I loved reading this book. Kimball not only tells about the hard work on the farm, but also her personal shortcomings she had to confront in the midst of hard work and lots of dirt. In between it all, she tells of meals she and Mark (her fiance) share - some sound fantastic, others made me shudder and shake my head in amazement at her adventuresome spirit.

If you're looking for a book to read this summer, I highly recommend The Dirty Life. If nothing else, you will 1) appreciate your current life; 2) want to investigate a local Community-Sustained Agriculture (CSA) farm; and 3) enjoy a really good book.

Read more poetry here, for Poetry Wednesday.

A Secret Gift

Newscasters and politicians have often compared the recent recession in the US with the Great Depression. However, after reading A Secret Gift: How One Man's Kindness - and a Trove of Letters - Revealed the Hidden History of the Great Depression by Ted Gup I cannot agree with those comparisons.

In A Secret Gift, Gup tells the story of his grandfather, Sam Stone. In 1933, Sam Stone lived in Canton, Ohio, and took out an ad in the local newspaper, offering a small gift of $10 to families greatly affected by the depression. In order to remain anonymous, he gave the gifts under a pseudonym, B. Virdot.

His offer of anonymity encouraged people who lost everything to reveal their stories to B. Virdot. And in the end, Sam Stone gave $5 to scores of people across Canton, from every walk of life.

Gup tracked down those who received the gift to discover how it affected their lives. He tells their stories, and the stories of their descendants. Some stories are heart-breaking, some are amazing - but every one of them is touching.

In between those stories, Gup uncovers the mysterious man who was his grandfather, Sam Stone. He weaves all together beautifully in this book - definitely worth adding to your summer reading list.

I am an American

April is a month packed with deadlines, interviews, meetings upon meetings squeezed in between school and home 'stuff' (sorry, my creative juices are all squeezed out of me today).

I'm off to an orthodontist appointment for my youngest daughter, then rushing back home to pick up the rest of the children. Then we head to church, where my beloved, lovely and oh-so-helpful! parents will take my children out to dinner (thanks Mom & Dad!) while I meet with potential counselors, junior counselors and senior staff for interviews.

Before I leave, I want to offer a poem for poetry Wednesday. It's rather long, but I read it to my older two children this morning (before dashing off to another meeting) and I really liked the imagery, rhythm and message of this poem.

I am an American
Elias Lieberman

I am an American.
My father belongs to the Sons of the Revolution;
My mother, to the Colonial Dames.
One of my ancestors pitched tea overboard in Boston Harbor;
Another stood his ground with Warren;
Another hungered with Washington at Valley Forge.
My forefathers were America in the making:
They spoke in her council halls;
They died on her battle-fields;
They commanded her ships;
They cleared her forests.
Dawns reddened and paled.
Staunch hearts of mine beat fast at each new star
In the nation's flag.
Keen eyes of mine foresaw her greater glory:
The sweep of her seas,
The plenty of her plains,
The man-hives in their billion-wired cities.
Every drop of blood in me holds a heritage of patriotism.
I am proud of my past.
I am an AMERICAN.

I am an American.
My father was an atom of dust,
My mother a straw in the wind,
To His Serene Majesty.
One of my ancestors died in the mines of Siberia;
Another was cripples for life by twenty blows of the knout.
Another was killed defending his home during the massacres.
The history of my ancestors is a trail of blood
To the palace-gate of the Great White Czar.
But then the dream came-
The dream of America.
In the light of the Liberty torch
The atom of dust became a man
And the straw in the wind became a woman
For the first time.
"See," said my father, pointing to the flag that fluttered near,
"That flag of stars and stripes is yours;
It is the emblem of the promised land.
It means, my son, the hope of humanity.
Live for it - die for it!"
Under the open sky of my new country I swore to do so;
And every drop of blood in me will keep that vow.
I am proud of my future.
I am an AMERICAN.

I really do love this poem. Find more great poems here for Poetry Wednesday.

Extraordinary, Ordinary People

For some reason, Condoleezza Rice has always fascinated me. She seems so young to have gotten so far.

When I saw her memoir at the library, I snatched it up to read. My cousin saw it in my arms to check out and commented she had really enjoyed it, which made me anticipate reading it even more.

Extraordinary, Ordinary People: A Memoir of Family by Condoleezza Rice is a very good book. I appreciate how adroitly she handles the topics she covers in her book - from segregated Birmingham and racism to her mother's cancer to her father's illness and death.

Rice herself is an extraordinary woman, but certainly not a proud one. She talks about her accomplishments matter-of-factly, crediting her parents for their investment in her and her education. It's amazing what she has done, and what she has a accomplished. I knew she played piano, but had no idea she was a competitive ice skater.

Rice also has a great ability to maintain relationships and remember names of people who helped her out years earlier.

All this makes for a delightfully easy book to read, in no way showy or proud. It is a tribute to her parents who sacrificed so much for her, and in a very large way made Rice the woman she is today. And despite the difficulties discussed, it ends up a feel-good book which inspires you to strive to be your best.

Plus, she reveals the origins of her name - which is really very interesting.

April

I have to admit, I'm feeling particularly uninspired today. Perhaps it is the dreary weather. Cloudy skies, drizzly rain without the satisfaction of a thunderstorm. The weather man says we might see the sun later this afternoon, but I'm not holding my breath.

I am looking forward to spring! I do have some tiny crocus blossoms in my front yard, and I raked out the bushes by the house, uncovering the shoots of the daffodils and a few tulips bursting through the ground.

I'll post pictures when they bloom - assuming the deer and rabbits don't eat my tulips before they're able to show their beautiful selves.

(Which is why, although I absolutely adore tulips, I planted over 80 daffodil bulbs in front of my house. The deer hate them.)

Meanwhile, I did happen to find a poem about April in my go-to poetry book Favorite Poems Old and New, purchased from Sonlight Curriculum for Nathaniel & Anna's schoolwork this year. Believe it or not, we will have read all 567 pages by mid-May - and greatly expanded our poetry repertoire (not that we can recite any of them).

Without further ado, here is my offering for Poetry Wednesday.

April
Sara Teasdale

The roofs are shining from the rain,
The sparrows twitter as they fly,
And with a windy April grace
The little clouds go by.

Yet the back yards are bare and brown
With only one unchanging tree -
I could not be so sure of Spring
Save that it sings in me.

Birthday Bash

Our official family photographer, for various reasons, was unable to document our most recent family gathering.

So, I stepped in - with my inferior camera, and lack of a good eye. However, I think I captured some of the fun the cousins had while together.

It started off with sewing with Nana. The girls made some, ahem, interesting creations.






And it ended with a big birthday bash celebrated Sabourin style - with plenty of ice cream. Yum!

Peace Out!