Sailing

It's possible I've blogged about this before. This sailing. It has become one of the favourite activities of my family on windy days. In winter they use a toboggan. Yesterday they used the little red wagon; Radio Flyer is true to its name. They had a hard time getting the tarp centered properly and it turns out that a lighter child would have made it all easier. But they were successful.

The stories told with the most enthusiasm though were those when the child held the tarp by hand and ran or was dragged along. I was shown some good scrape marks. My favourite scene was seeing the tarp snap in half the 1" x 2" board that it was tied to and that CTM was holding. He lurched suddenly to a stop with the two pieces in his hand while the tarp flew off happily, finally free from its bonds.

Are we just a weird homeschooling family? or are we creative and family-oriented? It's all in the perspective I suspect. In any case, it's fun to watch and experience the joy. Each child seems alive and bright when they come in, and I don't think it can all be explained by the 'bracing' wind.

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I was born and raised Mennonite Brethren. Although I no longer have a membership in such a church I still consider myself to be MB. At times I forget how important it is to me. Then I read a book by Margaret Epp and am reminded. Easter approaches and I make paska and am reminded. I catch sight of a tub of dry cottage cheese, think of vareneki and am reminded. Hear my mother singing in harmony with her sisters and am reminded.

Amidst all the stories I hold and memories I treasure I realize one thing: food seems to play such a huge part in the MB tradition! Here is a blog I love. Many of the recipes here I recognize, some are newer than those in my Mennonite Treasury cookbook or my We Are Our Mother family cookbook. The beauty behind the food though is something deeper, a desire for relationships. The beautiful gift of hospitality and welcome. A sharing of our selves with each other and even strangers. That is why I sometimes weep when I come across recipes and the stories that go with them. They bring memories of people I have known, times when my life has been influenced and enriched by those with whom I have been privileged to share a moment. Of course my family is central to many of those memories. I am Mennonite Brethren.


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The first fire in our new woodstove. (New is such a loosely worded term in this case since we've had it for over a year and a half, first just inches into the front door since it came home on the back of the pickup during a snowstorm, but at 400 lbs Pieman and I could only slide it so far, then sitting in our cloakroom. Then it was installed with the chimney reaching through the ceiling into the attic. And there it sat. For a looong time. Now it has been fully installed and certified for insurance purposes. Finally a fire. It's going to be a cozy winter!


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A full day of learning started at 8:30 am with baking a cake. It has officially ended with the icing of the cake at 5 pm. Lots of action in the middle including Greek, history (ancient Greece coincidentally), math, Bible, hockey (ok, that's happening now and in the kitchen as though that's normal). The play outside included spontaneous chestnut hunting and caterpillar noticing.

I like a good day.

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Cattails, children running through the fields and woods, fall colours, pumpkins, tomatoes rescued from frost, hot soup and hot chocolate, squash and beans harvested from our own garden. The crunch of leaves underfoot, a warm sweater. Cozy. Fall. Yes, it means winter's coming but what a waste to not enjoy today.

(And after all, winter's beautiful too!)

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There's a hole in my roof, dear Liza, dear Liza, there's a hole in my roof, dear Liza, a hole.

Well fix it, dear Pieman, dear Pieman, dear Pieman, well fix it, dear Pieman, dear Pieman, fix it.

But how should I fix it, dear Liza, dear Liza, but how should I fix it, dear Liza, fix it?

With a chimney, dear Pieman, dear Pieman, dear Pieman, with a chimney, dear Pieman, dear Pieman for the woodstove.


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Yellow tomatoes float through my dreams as I start research on how to can the non-red tomatoes. Yellow spaghetti sauce? Doesn't work for me.

I had had visions of bushels of tomatoes filling my bowls and spilling out onto the counters. The reality has been that the weather has not been that warm this summer and the tomatoes have drifted in in manageable waves after each warmer day or two. Some are now frozen, some are dried, some are roasted and frozen and all have tasted really nice. There's nothing quite like a fresh from the vine still warm tomato exploding taste into your mouth.

Some of the oh-so-pretty and even tastier cherry tomatoes we've been fortunate to enjoy this summer.

Gladiolas leftover from a pig roast on Saturday serendipitously made their way to our house. It's a huge bouquet! and gorgeous.



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