I love learning along side the kids in our homeschool community/co-op. This type of education inspires and refreshes me and gives my brain it's required nutriment. This term we're studying the life and works of the poet Eleanor Farjeon. Two stories about her life that have been shared with us stand out to me in a new way.
A young Eleanor in one of her hats (my TBG kids will get this :)
One time, she was getting ready to go out and was washing up. With one hand washing, she grabbed a paper and pencil with the other and wrote the poem Chaos. Another time she was at a party, waiting her turn to play a game. She got up and left the group, stepped outside and sat down in the night air and wrote the words to another poem about the night. People sometimes said she was a little different. What was it that made her stop (or not!) what she was in the middle of and write poetry!?
Now, let me tell you another little story. Recently I hosted TBG at my home for a morning. We all went out and headed back into the woods for our nature walk. One of the moms stumbled (almost literally) upon this adorable little owl.
We all gathered around to observe the little guy and several of us even had time to make an entry into our notebooks! The owl sat on the branch for a good 20 minutes or longer! Its feathers ruffled in the breeze; it blinked often yet made no sound; and it turned its head round for us once or twice in that truly owl-ish way. We were all in awe. Yet, none of us could identify the owl off-hand. We went home and dug out our field guides and searched around online.
Painting the owl on the woodland floor
Later that night, determined to find out, my husband and I went owling in the dark, chilly wind. We crept through the woods as quietly as one can on a carpet of crunchy dry leaves. We searched through the branches with the flashlight, but our ears heard it first. It was the most un-owl noise, like a wet saw blade or 2 pieces of metal rubbing, squeaking against each other. I thought for sure it must be the weather vane turning in the wind, but we checked and it wasn't! After hearing it about 7 times, the flashlight caught a glimpse of the little owl, reassuring us that it was the little Saw-Whet Owl our group had observed.
Owling is a great adventure!
What does this have to do with Eleanor, you say? I went to sleep that night and had a dream about that owl. I really don't consider myself poetic, but in the morning when I awoke I had these silly little words running around in my head. I had to set them down on paper to make them be quiet.
I had an 'Eleanor-moment.' She and I will forever be linked now.
This is after all a living education, making a connection with with one of the great minds, isn't it?
Saw-whet owl with your voice so strange,
I never could imagine such a squeaky, metal twang
could come from a bird so elfin, soft, and cute
with your blinking eyes and turning head,
we thought you might be mute.
You had all of us fooled
thinking you must have been a baby,
but in your wisdom were you thinking
how silly we all were, maybe?
Owling is a great adventure!
What does this have to do with Eleanor, you say? I went to sleep that night and had a dream about that owl. I really don't consider myself poetic, but in the morning when I awoke I had these silly little words running around in my head. I had to set them down on paper to make them be quiet.
I had an 'Eleanor-moment.' She and I will forever be linked now.
This is after all a living education, making a connection with with one of the great minds, isn't it?
Saw-whet owl with your voice so strange,
I never could imagine such a squeaky, metal twang
could come from a bird so elfin, soft, and cute
with your blinking eyes and turning head,
we thought you might be mute.
You had all of us fooled
thinking you must have been a baby,
but in your wisdom were you thinking
how silly we all were, maybe?
Photo courtesy of my friend Mrs. T :)
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