Jesus Christ the Apple Tree

I've had several posts percolating for the past week, but it doesn't look as though any of them are actually going to see the light of day before we head out for our annual thanksgiving travels (tomorrow morning, Lord willing).

So you'll have to wait for that poem I promised to post (I really meant to post it this week, Erin!) and my glowing report on the Saturday evening lecture by John Granger that D. and I got to attend this past weekend. What a gift that was! Not to mention ruminations on Andy Crouch's excellent book Culture-Making, which I just finished up last week. I also hope to do my annual list of thanksgiving blessings after we return. Those are a few of things in the pipeline...

In the meantime, check out this beautiful version of Jesus Christ the Apple Tree sung by a cathedral boys' choir. I found it a few days ago and have been playing it often as food for meditation in these hectic days. It's one of my favorite songs in all the world (I first learned it from a Bob Bennett album). It feeds my soul. I've needed to hear it in this season of thanksgiving as we move toward advent, and I hope it blesses you too.

Happy thanksgiving!

Great Moments in Homeschool History

There are so many things I love about teaching. High on the list are those moments when all cylinders are firing, communication is clear, and your student goes above and beyond what what you're asking them to think about or do!

The sweet girl and I had one of those moments this morning. On Fridays we do art and music appreciation...i.e. we listen to music by a certain composer and look at a painting by a certain artist. Today we were going into a new four week segment on Beethoven and Cezanne. Today was our first day with both.

Our daughter is becoming an artist. She's really amazing us lately with her ability to draw, her eye for color and design, and her desire to "do art" as much as possible. But she also loves to look at paintings. This morning she was sitting at the computer zooming in and out on Still Life With Compotier on the artchive site (great website). I was several feet away, jotting down some notes on our art worksheet/narration page as we talked about the painting together.

As usual, I asked her "What do you notice in this painting? What do you see?" I confess I was expecting her to say something like "apples" or "I see some fruit in a bowl." Instead she gestured at the painting and said, oh so enthusiastically, "What I notice are the bright fruit colors against the darker background."

Seriously. My six year old said this. Yes, I am beaming. What made it even more fun (besides the very astute observation) was how she really found excitement in this. She went on to talk about the different colors and to make sure that I really "saw" what she was getting at about the bright and dark.

Lest one think that our homeschool mornings are always full of non-whining (ha!) enthusiasm and clever answers, let me hasten to tell you about the other moment this morning that made me laugh in a different way.

We'd moved on to listening to some Beethoven. Our loud, exciting piece this morning was the Allegro movement from symphony no. 5. As a good contrast, I thought we'd play the quiet "adagio" from the Moonlight Sonata.

I should mention that the sweet girl truly enjoys music, but it doesn't seem to come close to her passion for visual art right now. Which is fine! I often let her color while she listens to music as it helps her to focus. She was coloring when I moved to the Moonlight Sonata track. I thought I would introduce it briefly, since I love it so much. So I explained what it was called and then (getting a bit misty) mentioned that it was one of my very favorite pieces of music in the world.

At which point she looked up a bit vaguely from her drawing and, without missing a beat, mused "I wonder how llamas get water? You know, when they're up in the Andes..."

Hee. All I could think of was that old Gary Larson cartoon "what we say to dogs" and "what dogs hear." Remember that? "Blah, blah, blah, Ginger..."

Yes, teaching is full of those moments too. Which doesn't make it any less fun or rewarding.

Advent Devotional Reading

I usually try to do some focused Advent devotional reading each year in addition to reading from the Scriptures. While I haven't yet decided what I'm reading this year (and I need to figure that out soon...first Advent arrives Sunday, November 30!) I thought I'd post a list of some titles that I've loved and enjoyed over the years.

Madeleine L'Engle's The Irrational Season was the book where I first really learned about Advent. As an eighteen year old who had not grown up in a liturgically rich church tradition, I was immediately taken by her descriptions of the rhythms of the church year, and fascinated by the thought of ordering time differently from the rest of the world. The book journeys through the whole church year, so not every chapter will be apt for advent, but there are several chapters that could nourish your heart between here and the new year. The first four chapters contain reflections on Advent, Christmas, Holy Innocents and Epiphany, and the final chapter of the book goes full circle back around to Advent.

WinterSong, another book by Madeleine L'Engle but co-authored by her good friend Luci Shaw, is another gem for the entire Advent and Christmas seasons. During their writing careers, Madeleine and Luci both wrote a lot (prose and poetry) about the incarnation. This book is a wonderful "sampler" of some of what they've written. Good bite-sized reflections, snippets and poems. Really lovely.

The Vigil: Keeping Watch in the Season of Christ's Coming by Wendy Wright. This is part of a trio of devotional/meditational books Wright has written on the church year (the other two are called The Rising and The Time Between) but in my humble opinion, this is the best one. It's certainly the one I go back to most. I appreciate Wright's thoughtful prose style and I love the fact that she steeps this book deeply in the words of the church down through the ages. You'll find many, many hymns, poems and prayers from the ancient church onward included here. Just writing about it makes me want to go back and dip into it again. I discovered one of my favorite prayers by Catherine of Siena while reading this book.

God With Us is an advent devotional book that was just published last year. I was blessed to find it in our local library and it became my main book for meditation last advent. The contributing writers are Scott Cairns, Emilie Griffin, Richard John Neuhaus, Kathleen Norris, Eugene Peterson (just the introduction) and Luci Shaw. Absolutely beautiful, chock full of artwork as well as devotionals and poems. It follows the lectionary and it goes all the way through the entire Christmas season (all twelve days). You can go here for a longer review I posted last year after I finished it.

Last year I also found a marvelous blog, called O Night Divine. It draws on mostly Catholic resources and is filled with creative ideas to help individuals and families make Advent more meaningful and prayerful.

Do you have a tradition of reading or meditating during Advent? Are there books, paintings, poems, or hymns that have meant a lot to you in your personal and family Advent traditions? Do share!

Things To Do To Get Ready for Winter

The Monday poetry stretch over at Miss Rumphius inspired this poem, although now that I've finished it, I've decided it's probably not a true list poem. Not sure I'll post the link over there after all, but thought it would be fun to post it here anyway. If you're a fan of to-do lists, I hope you'll enjoy it!

Virtual gold-stars to anyone who gets the picture book allusion about mid-way through, or what poem I'm echoing a bit in the final line.

Things To Do To Get Ready for Winter

Since I can’t hibernate,
resign myself to hunkering.
Check my tea stash in the cupboard
by the stove. Adjust the thermostat
and pile on the fleece blankets.
Pray for those still out in the cold.
Plan what we’ll read on the
Thanksgiving trip, dig out the
Advent and Christmas music.
Be grateful for a little girl
who likes snow, but be prepared
for her to flit from window to window
like a wind-driven flake whenever
we see a flurry or a squall.
Enjoy the holiday catalogs,
but think “make” and “do” not buy.
Rearrange the Austen movies;
double-check my list of books
to put on hold at the library.
Try to find the Advent candles
I bought last year and promised
myself I wouldn’t lose.
Store summer colors like Frederick
but take note of industrious squirrels
who scramble through piles
of copper covered leaves,
looking for just the right place
to hide one more acorn treasure.
Find gloves, hats, scarves
and see if Sarah has outgrown
her boots. Tighten loose
buttons and replace lost ones.
Treasure small things, small
deeds, small kindnesses.
Hug my husband more often.
Stand in awe before bare branches
lit like moonlit candelabra.
Make my mother’s winter
vegetable soup. Don’t forget
to wear socks to bed, even though
I know I’ll kick them off
and lose them under the covers.
Practice lying still and dormant like a seed.

Cherry Ames Back In Print

I just found out that the Cherry Ames books are all being brought back into print. If you were a fan of girls' series/formula fiction when you were growing up, you might have known Cherry...but maybe not, given how old the earlier books were even in my childhood. They were written by Helen Wells; the first one was published in 1943.

I've always thought of Cherry Ames as Nancy Drew with more to do. Like Nancy, Cherry was bright, attractive, intelligent and pretty good at sleuthing. Unlike Nancy, Cherry had an actual profession, one that meant more to her than her amateur detective work (which was clearly just a hobby on the side). Cherry Ames was a registered nurse. In the first book in the series: Cherry Ames, Student Nurse, she's eighteen, fresh out of high school, and headed to nursing school at Spencer Hospital. That was the only Cherry Ames book I actually owned for many years (I think it was a hand-me-down from my older sister) though I eventually picked up a couple more at yard sales and read a few more I found in libraries.

Those early books are steeped in American patriotism. Given their publication dates, it's not surprising. Cherry goes to nursing school in the first place because she wants to help out in the war effort. Her twin brother Charlie becomes a fighter pilot.

I always liked the earliest books best because of the camaraderie between Cherry and her fellow students (and almost all of the really good characters you come to love in book 1 end up enlisting as army nurses) and because the war lends a certain urgency to what Cherry's doing. In the later books, she hops around from job to job. Her resume must have been pages long...and amazingly, she never seems to lose a job or get fired, just makes the change of her own free will! She ends up nursing in all sorts of locales such as nursing homes, boarding schools, dude ranches, clinics, department stores, camps and doctors' offices. Oh, and I think a jungle and a ski lodge, just for good measure. Along the way she meets up with various good-looking young men. She dates but never marries anyone (unless that happens in a later book I never read) with the implied reason being that she's happily "married" to her profession. Hee.

Not great literature by any means, but an interesting slice of Americana and, at least in the early part of the series, some memorable characters and intriguing story lines. Not bad bits of detective work either. I actually preferred these to Nancy Drew, which I generally read only when nothing else was available. The boxed set of the first four volumes (Student Nurse, Senior Nurse, Army Nurse, Chief Nurse) looks lovely; the Springer Publishing Company is putting them out in "facsimile hardcover editions" that look just like the originals, selling them individually but also as five boxed sets of four, reprinting the entire 20-book run.

I confess I also love Cherry Ames because she reminds me so much of my mom. Yes, my mom was Cherry Ames...or rather, my mom was a registered nurse. She would have been just a bit too young to train with Cherry during WWII (I never asked her if she read the early books as a teenager...I should!) but she went to nursing school and trained at a mission hospital in the early 1950s, just a few years after the fictional Cherry and friends. She still has very fond memories of that time, and of the few years she worked as a nurse before she began having children. Just the other day, in fact, she emailed the family to let us know she'd been back in touch with a fellow student she hadn't seen in years. They spent time reminiscing, she wrote, about the days they had spent:

"clad in our blue & white stripes underneath the stiff white aprons, taking care of not only patients with "everyday" ailments, but patients with polio, tuberculosis and other communicable diseases, how we made the patients' beds ourselves and actually had to wash and sterilize our own needles & syringes (something totally unheard-of today), and how a note in our mailbox saying, "Please see me. ELC" ("ELC" being Esther L. Creasman, the Director of Nursing) meant we had either goofed up somewhere and needed correction, or we had done something commendable deserving of praise (and ELC was lavish with both, which really kept us on our toes!)"

And I read that description and thought "yep! My mom was Cherry Ames!" She even looks a bit like her, doesn't she? Yes, that's my mom on the top right in this nursing class photo from 1951.



I'm proud of my mom, and delighted that books that capture a little bit about the nursing era she experienced are back in print.

Poetry Break: Emily Dickinson

He ate and drank the precious Words--
His spirit grew robust--
He knew no more that he was poor,
Nor that his frame was Dust--

He danced along the dingy Days
And this Bequest of Wings
Was but a Book--What Liberty
A loosened spirit brings--

~Emily Dickinson

When Storied Words Make Their Way Into The World

I was reading an online article from TIME magazine a few days ago, a political article written post-election. It was one of those articles attempting to analyze how the election went and why. It was fairly interesting, but I confess I was sort of skimming along. Suddenly, a phrase jumped out at me. The author of the article was describing what she considered to be one of the more important facets of the election, the "youth vote." And what did she call it? "The golden snitch of politics..."

The golden snitch of politics. I couldn't help it: I started chuckling. It's not as though this is a highly creative or even necessarily unique use of the phrase...I've applied "golden snitch" myself when writing about the Harry Potter phenomenon (in a review I once referred to the wonderful themes of the stories, especially the ones that are so rich and ripe for fruitful conversation with children, as the "golden snitch" of the series). I daresay other people have used the phrase already in all sorts of other contexts, because it's a (literally) colorful phrase, and such delightfully handy short-hand. One knows immediately what any author who uses these words means: the big prize, the goal someone seeks or longs for the most, the elusive thing everybody is after.

Still, this was the first time I'd really noticed a Harry Potter phrase or word so casually applied in a mainstream journal dealing with a topic that was completely non-literary, so I thought I would make note of it. Because it's fascinating, isn't it, when "storied words" cross over into other areas of writing and discourse.

It got me thinking about Tolkien and Lewis, both such important writers in the 20th century. Have any of their phrases or words hopped over into common parlance? (Of course they published long enough ago now that some of their phrases might have done so and already faded from fashion...)

Not long ago I was making a written comment to a student in an online church history class. I can't remember the precise context, but I think we must have been discussing the marvelous unexpectedness and greatness of God at a certain time in history. And I wrote the phrase "Not exactly a tame lion!" fully expecting that an anglican seminarian would get that context without me having to spell it out. I don't know how easily one could use a similar phrase in mainstream culture and expect people to understand it, though given the ongoing popularity of the Narnia stories perhaps more than I think. (I do think they've tried to tame the lion considerably in the movies...though that's "a horse of a different color". Hmmm...there's another one....)

So I'm curious. Can you think of an instance where you've heard someone use language from a beloved story (Harry Potter, Tolkien, Lewis, or any other) in a completely different context? Did it surprise you to find it where you found it? Or...to make this even more fun...are there certain words or phrases from stories you know and love that haven't crossed over into common usage but you think they could...or wish they would?

"Biblical" Voting

Don't hesitate to read this post because of the title: I promise you that I am not going to pressure you about the "right" person to vote for in this election, or even the "right way" to vote! (Of course, at 3:48 EST on election day, you've already voted anyway, yes? If not, don't forget to go the polls later today!)

I've just been reflecting a bit on the passions and anxieties that have permeated this particular election cycle. That always seems to be the case in presidential years in the U.S., but perhaps this year more so than ever, for all sorts of reasons.

And I've been reflecting on the stressful rhetoric from both sides about doing the "right thing" and voting the "right way." That's true in all kinds of communities, perhaps most of all in communities of faith.

I still remember the first presidential election I could ever vote in. The year was 1988 and I was an earnest 20 year old who really wanted to "make a difference" and "do the right thing." I was at a Christian liberal arts college with a history of social and political activism, and talk about the campaign felt almost constant. Somewhere along the way I picked up a little pamphlet, or was given one, entitled "Can My Vote Be Biblical?"

I don't remember the pamphlet very well, beyond the fact that the writers seemed to think that the answer was yes. They provided me with a little check-off list of issues. I very carefully went down the list, putting check marks in various columns, seeing where one candidate did better than the other (or so I thought) in certain areas. I was surprised to find that the line of check-marks looked kind of ragged: no one candidate had a lock on the issues I happened to care most about, and I'm pretty sure at least some of the issues I cared about hadn't even made it onto the pamphlet.

In despair, I threw up my hands. Can my vote be biblical? I thought. And I decided the answer was no! Not if "biblical" meant: does any one candidate adhere absolutely and perfectly to the values that I feel Jesus would think are most important.

20 years later I have to smile at my earnest youthful idealism. I still resonate with my own youthful anguish over the realization that politicians (then and still now) will never be perfect, or even anywhere close to it. But my idealism is tempered by the realizations that 1) I'm not sure I even know what "perfect" means, 2) we've got an impaired and in many ways corrupted political system that in many ways promotes awfulness between people of good ideals who should know better, and 3) as U2 once sang, "kingdoms rise and kingdoms fall, but you (God) go on and on..."

I now think that my vote can be "biblical" but not at all in the way the writer of that pamphlet two decades ago thought. Voting is, after all, an action like any other, though seemingly fraught with more weight and importance than some others. It's a verb. I vote, just like I hug my child or cook dinner or have a conversation with a neighbor or write a story. (And hmmm...I have days when I am pretty sure that most of the latter actions and how I do them will have deeper ripples and repercussions than the button I pushed on the voting screen today.)

Voting is something I do, and because it's an action, a choice, it's rooted in who I am. In other words, it comes out of how I'm shaped at the deepest core. If I'm shaped by a biblical vision, the one that sees the big story from creation to revelation, the vision whereby I understand that the whole world is held together and sustained by a passionate, loving God who was willing to empty himself to win humanity back from the power of sin and death, if I'm shaped by a vision of God's kingdom as the everlasting kingdom, humanity's call to create and cultivate in a broken world, the hope of Jesus that anchors the soul in the midst of any storm (even financial and cultural ones!) and the reminder that this world is not our home...well, all those things and more will shape the way I think and do a lot of things. Including, but not limited to, voting.

Kind of hard to put all that in a pamphlet though.

The Living Word

The sweet girl seemed especially attentive during our morning Bible reading today. We spent a longer time than usually really talking about the reading, which happened to be from the end of Joshua. She was very excited about Joshua's recounting of the story of the people of Israel, from Abraham onwards to that very moment. We've read many of those stories together since September. I think she is beginning to really grasp the bigger picture, the full story of the Scriptures.

She had that "lit up" and interested look when she suddenly exclaimed "Mommy!" in a tone that usually precludes the announcement of a new insight. And then she said this, in a very excited tone: "The Bible has an ending. But Jesus doesn't!"

Wow. Just wow. I love it when the light goes on for her, because so often, in God's gracious providence, it makes lights go on for me too. I love that she's grasped the preciousness and wonder of God's written story, but that she can discern the difference between the story itself and the author behind it. The written Word, as we have it, does indeed have an "ending" -- we can turn the last page and close the book. But the Holy Spirit invites us to step into the ongoing story that doesn't stop with the last page and began long before the first one was ever penned. And the Author of the Story himself, the Alpha and Omega, the Word that spoke all into existence, has no ending. Amen and Amen!

A Break for Poetry

October gave a party;
The leaves by hundreds came -
The Chestnuts, Oaks, and Maples,
And leaves of every name.
The Sunshine spread a carpet,
And everything was grand,
Miss Weather led the dancing,
Professor Wind the band.

~~George Cooper

I've been meaning to post this all month. Happy end of October!
(And happy Halloween, and happy eve of All Saints!)

Worth Noting, Worth Quoting

"A bad day of parenting is better than a good day of not parenting."

Tip of the hat to Antique Mommy. Was I ever grateful for this reminder today!

Young Mozart

During this first grade year I'm using Harmony Fine Art's Arts and Music Appreciation program. One of the many things I appreciate about the program is that it provides various options for picture and music study. Although some require use or purchase of various books and materials, there are plenty of options available so that even the most budget-conscious (read: budget-strapped!) parent/teacher can find all sorts of ideas. In the arts appreciation area, the program offers one option that relies almost exclusively on picture study online. They provide links to websites where you can find pictures and artist biographies as needed. We've utilized these extensively, along with materials we've found at our library to supplement what we're learning.

One of the things I've enjoyed is finding picture books to accompany our studies. We're a picture book loving family, and picture books provide yet another creative entrance into thinking about the lives of artists and musicians. There have been some lovely ones published in recent years, though I've been amused to see that we have a good selection to choose from for some artists (perhaps those considered more "kid-appropriate" or fascinating) and almost no choices for others. Case in point: finding any picture books or biographies of Manet for a first grader seems to be a nigh unto impossible task. But writers and illustrators for young children LOVE Mary Cassatt!

This month we're learning about Cassatt in art and Mozart in music. I thought I would briefly review the picture book Young Mozart, written and illustrated by Rachel Isadora.



We've known some of Isadora's other picture books about the ballet, and have always been impressed by her artwork. The pictures here are beautiful, as you can probably tell from the cover. I'm guessing they're watercolor: at any rate, she appears to use washes of color, a very light, almost pastel palette. The visual details of clothes, hairstyles, rooms and instruments do a wonderful job of evoking Mozart's time period (the latter half of the 18th century: 1756-1791).

The text is also well-written. What I like most about this as a book for young children (say, 4-8 years old) is how much the text concentrates on Mozart's early childhood. Of course it continues the story into his adulthood and shares about how great a composer he becomes, but the emphasis stays consistently on details that would interest a young child. Isadora highlights how Mozart learned to write music before he could write words (a concept that fascinated my daughter) and how he and his father would play singing games at night before bedtime. She relays a wonderful scene in which little Mozart, with his child-sized violin, wants to join in and play with his father and some of his father's friends, who are making music on harpsichord and violin. Since Wolfgang had not yet taken any violin lessons, his father discouraged him, but one of the other adults, moved by the little boy's tears, invited him to go on and play. And of course he shocked them all by being able to play beautifully. He'd taught himself how to play the violin!

Since Mozart was a child prodigy, composing and performing before audiences (even royal ones!) before he was seven, his story lends itself well to a children's biography. Not that most children will be able to relate personally to Mozart's genius, but they can relate to his growing love of music and to his desire to play it and write it. Most children have at least one special thing they too love to do (for my daughter right now, it's drawing). This book gave me an opportunity to introduce the words "prodigy" and "genius" to my six year old, but also to talk about giftedness in general...and how gifts are meant to be developed and shared.

Anyone who has ever watched the film Amadeus knows that Mozart's personal life, as he grew older, was quite troubled and troubling. Isadora doesn't gloss over the fact that Mozart struggled with personal discipline (she mentions that he spends too much money, hence his need to keep teaching, giving concerts and composing) but she doesn't keep our focus there or on anything that would be inappropriate for young children. I don't see this as revising history as much as knowing one's audience. There will be time enough later for children to grow in their understanding that not all artists, even those endowed with tremendous gifts, are always morally upright or mistake free. My daughter already knows that all of us are sinners; she's beginning to learn that even people (and characters in stories) that we admire are not always perfect or necessarily good role models. Human struggles don't have to negate someone's gifts or our appreciation for how those gifts have touched us. And thankfully Mozart's gift of beautiful music has lasted long -- long after his very short life (he died at 35) came to an end.

Young Mozart is a thoughtful book to help a young child get to know more about Mozart's life and work. It's also a book that can open up fruitful conversations about gifts and giftedness.

Just Curious...

but can anyone out there NOT see my regular sidebars? For some reason the last couple of times I've clicked to my blog via the standard URL, without actually signing into blogspot, I'm seeing posts but no sidebars...not my profile blurb, archives, blog roll, list of read-alouds, lunar calendar or anything else. The only way I can view sidebars is by signing in, which makes me really curious to know if visitors are unable to see my regular lay-out.

Vocabulary Builders

I've been enjoying the Free Rice website a lot lately. Lots of fun brain-teasers, but I especially like the vocabulary quizzes. Check it out: you can learn new words, and for every answer you get right, they donate 20 grains of rice to the United Nations World Food Program! (Note: the vocabulary quiz is somewhat addictive. As you answer more questions correctly, your "level" increases and the words get harder. If you miss a word, pay attention to the correct answer they give you, as you'll get a second chance on down the line when that word recirculates back to your quiz!)

On the topic of vocabulary building: I just found this enjoyable vocabulary quiz created from C.S. Lewis' The Horse and His Boy. The author of the article hasn't provided answers yet, but I'm guessing you can check back to find them later. Or maybe he just wants us to look up the ones we're not sure about. I'm fairly certain I got most of these, but it made me wonder...how many of them did I actually learn from context, and from reading Lewis? A great vocabulary builder for a young Lewis fan.

Shannon Hale on Story

Shannon Hale is becoming one of my favorite writers. The YA fantasy writer (who has also written one book for adults, Austenland) continues to delight me with courageous coming-of-age tales. They're deeply satisfying stories and also contain beautifully crafted prose. I reviewed her 2006 Newbery award winning Princess Academy last year, and just recently finished reading and reviewing The Goose Girl, her first novel published in 2003.

I've also become a visitor to Hale's blog Squeetus, a refreshing place to visit. She not only shares with great enthusiasm about her life as a published author, but generously offers peeks into her creative process.

This week she posted a link to a piece she wrote for School Library Journal. Called "How Reader Girl Got Her Groove Back", it's an autobiographical essay in which she reflects on how being force fed the classics, then taught a completely analytical approach to studying literature in college, then taught how to write literary fiction in grad school, almost killed her love of reading. She speaks candidly of how she rediscovered the joyful "reader girl" inside her, the one that used to read with a light under the covers until her eyes gave out, and then fell asleep splayed over a book. (Been there, done that!)

I mention it here not only because it's worth reading in full, but because I found myself needing/wanting to muse aloud about some of what she wrote.

I resonated with much of what she says. I went through a long period of time where I felt like the reading and writing I loved most was always considered "secondary" or somehow less than profound, primarily because much of it could be found on children's or young adult's shelves. I got over that a while ago, especially after trying and failing to read (with any real engagement or passion) a number of contemporary "adult" novelists. I'm not saying that I couldn't find any contemporary novelists writing stories that gripped me, but the ones I usually loved either wrote some form of genre fiction (read: 'non-serious' or 'non-literary') or else straddled the worlds of adult and young adult or children's fiction -- writers like Madeleine L'Engle or Jon Hassler. In the case of the latter two, there were other red flags showing they wouldn't pass muster as "serious literature" in many colleges -- they were both steeped in faith-based worldviews and, in Madeleine's case at least, dabbled in fantasy.

For a long time I had difficulty putting my finger on why I didn't "fit in" with the MFA program I attended for two weeks the year I turned 24 (just several months before I got married). I had been accepted as a potential candidate: in other words, I was there on trial. And what a trial. Fresh out of college, at least a handful of years younger than the other students in the program, I went thinking I'd spend two weeks writing and reading and getting excited about stories with other people who loved stories too. There were pockets of that passion there, and I did learn, but mostly what I found were rather jaded literary type folks who liked to smoke, sip cocktails, network with published authors, write depressing stories, and talk about postmodernism, a concept that I had barely even heard of at the time (which is funny to think about now)! I still remember sitting dumbfounded through a workshop in which we analyzed a short story made up entirely of one sentence (one very, very long, rambling sentence). My faith life and the fact that I sometimes wrote stories with child protagonists didn't get me very far either. The mentor assigned to me seemed bored with my child-likeness. In my closing meeting with her, she simply urged me to find "my voice" and handed me a pre-printed list of all the things I should read if I ever seriously wanted to be a writer. I'd hardly read any of them.

I do think there can be a place for what's termed literary fiction. It can even be written well. But beautiful words that don't lead anywhere are, in the end, just beautiful words, no matter how nicely put together. I long ago realized those are not usually the stories that set my heart pounding, make me laugh or cry, or keep me turning pages, the kind of story worth reading again and again and again the way I kept returning to Alcott, Lewis, Lovelace and L'Engle as a child, the way I began to return also to Tolkien, Austen and others in my young adulthood.

Today I've simply come to accept the fact that most of the best contemporary literature is being written for children and young adults. Perhaps because the writers for those audiences know that the audiences still care deeply about story (take a look at my Epinions profile sometime if you want to see more of my musings on the subject) and expect a good one. And I'm profoundly grateful for writers like Hale who care passionately about delivering a good, cathartic story with a beginning, middle and end and yet also care passionately about beautiful language.

And YET...there always has to be an "and yet" doesn't there?

I am not ready to give up on classical literature. I believe passionately in the value of reading old books as well as new ones (I've imbibed too much Lewisian thought not to value that!). Although I'm sure that my daughter will gobble up many good, contemporary books on the children's and YA shelves as she grows older (and I'm compiling a list now of some of the best ones...Hale's on it) I don't want that to be her only fare. We need a good diet of old and new to nourish our hearts, minds and imaginations.

I think it's very true that being force-fed books you aren't ready for, or being taught to read classics primarily as a lesson in how to analyze and tear apart a story for symbols and themes can kill a love of reading. I don't want that to happen to my daughter: I want her "reader girl" personality to still be shining through at 10, 13, and 16, just as it shines through now at 6 when she trips excitedly into the kitchen to read me a Richard Scarry story while I'm loading the dishwasher. But I don't think it necessarily follows that being given the classics, even some of the so-called great books of the western canon, must dampen a reader's enthusiasm. (It's one reason I'm excited about John Granger's work with the English literary tradition and its influence/connection to JK Rowling's Harry Potter stories...John is truly excited about the idea that with Harry Potter as a "shared text," this generation has a unique and wonderful springboard into understanding and appreciating the great books in a new way.)

Of course I'm not saying Hale doesn't value old stories. That would be silly indeed, given the fact that her novel The Goose Girl, for instance, is based on the Grimm fairytale of the same name. What excites me no end is the way the best stories draw on the stories that come before them, continuing a conversation or engaging in a dance that started long before. So let's give our daughters Hale's marvelous novel, and then let's turn them loose (if they haven't encountered it already) with Andrew Lang's The Blue Fairy Book. Old and new, together.

No, in this thoughtful essay, Hale is simply relating her own experiences regarding what helped bring her back to a passionate love of reading. I resonate with those experiences: in fact, they feel so familiar to me that I found myself inwardly nodding. But I would say that teachers and teaching methodology are often more at fault than the books any of us were given. Classics are, by definition, old, books that have stood the test of time. Most of them have stood the test of time for a reason, but the very fact of their age means that most of us don't find them easy reading, we need keys to help us unlock their joys. Not all classics are created equal (if it's true now that not every writer writes good stories, it's certainly always been true). But there are plenty of "old stories" that we can give to our children in ways that will help nourish that "reader girl" (or "reader boy") inside them. At least that's my hope!

Flower Art

The sweet girl and I went walking and photo-taking on this beautiful autumn day. I snapped a picture of some purple flowers and then came home and played with the image with my rudimentary photo software. I actually have some lovelier ones than this -- I tried it in regular color, grayscale, and this "solarized effect" -- but they're too high resolution to upload on my ancient computer. Thus the tiny postage stamp size (I needed to save it in a much lower resolution and then also crop for the close-up.) Some days I long for a better camera and computer, but mostly I'm just grateful for all that we have, including transient and tiny beauties like roadside flowers.

And I thought this was a rather nice effect, even in miniature! For me, looking at flowers in such detail is an exercise in contemplation and awe. I realize anew the intricate and amazing amount of design included in even very small living things. What an artist our God is!

Good Listening

We're grateful for our public library. We've been mining its riches (especially the children's library) for years now, but we always seem to find new treasures.

This month we've been getting into audio books. They've turned into an enjoyable listening opportunity during the sweet girl's afternoon rest time...which once in a great while is my rest time too, but most likely turns into lesson planning or reading or writing time!

The favorite two thus far, and ones I highly recommend:



The original Winnie the Pooh by A.A. Milne, unabridged, read by Jim Broadbent. I especially like his Piglet voice.



Green Eggs and Ham and Other Servings of Dr. Seuss, read by Michael McKean, Jason Alexander, and David Hyde Pierce. They're all good readers, but my very favorite is Fox in Socks as read by David Hyde Pierce.

I've also been very much enjoying a lovely CD my husband found for me at the library last week: Joshua Bell playing the West Side Story Suite based on Leonard Bernstein's wonderful West Side Story music. For some reason, I'm not finding a link to this anywhere online (it's late and I'm tired) but I still recommend it if you can find it or borrow it. I've always loved the West Side Story music, and this suite is filled with heart-rending and creative riffs on the West Side musical themes. The CD also includes some of Bernstein's concert work and music from On the Town and Candide.

100 Species Challenge (#2): Mophead Hydrangeas

2. Hydrangea Macrophylla: also known as "Mophead Hydrangeas." We see these in a lot of yards in the summer here; I especially love the rich blue ones.

These always fascinated me as a child because they change color depending on the soil composition (the amount of aluminum in the soil determines the color). Even though I know it has to do with soil composition, I still find myself thinking of these flowers as ladies who like to change the color of their dress depending on their moods (and the "mophead" designation for some varieties makes me think of ladies with curly hair!). Sometimes you see shades of both pink and blue on the same plant.

Note: I didn't get off to a roaring start with my cataloged list of 100 local species this past summer. I took a lot of photos but haven't had time to identify and/or write about most of them. Hoping to have some time to take some autumnal photos soon, but thought I would add this one culled from pictures I took in July.

Who Do You Write For?

Or perhaps that should actually be "For Whom Do You Write..." my choice of title might change depending on my intended audience!

I've been thinking about this question a good bit lately, without even realizing at first that I was thinking about it. I'm in one of those seasons where I find creativity sneaking up on me when I least expect it: I keep stumbling onto stories that want to be written, and (thankfully!) am locating the time to sit down and actually do some of the writing. Not a whole lot yet, but some.

But as always, creative seasons surprise me. I have a lot of stories in the mental garage that I've been ready to pull out and work on for ages, including some already written that I long to rework. Instead, I find myself writing some things I didn't expect, stories that are "calling out to me" at this particular moment.

One story I began working on last night is a real surprise: it's a story (for children, I think?) about a cheetah. The sweet girl and I have been studying mammals during the first eight weeks of school, and during our "feline" studies, I found myself absolutely fascinated by cheetahs. The bare outline of an African legend was mentioned in one of the books we were reading: it intersected in my head with some of the fascinating facts we were reading and then intersected again with Kipling, and suddenly I found myself starting a story. I love the mysterious ways stories come to us; it's really impossible to track the full path they travel!

But I am curious to know about others' approaches to story-writing. For me, my respect for the mysterious process of how a story-idea (or perhaps it would be better to call it a story-seed) gets born (or blows into my consciousness like a milkweed seed) means that I find myself thinking less about any intended hearers when I first sit down to write. I think I am so busy listening myself to what this particular story is trying to say that I'm not yet thinking too far ahead about who else might ever hear it. My consciousness of crafting it for other people does hover somewhere pretty close by: often I think about how certain lines would sound when read aloud, and sometimes the very way a story starts to come to me gives me an indication of who the audience might be. Hence my deep feeling as I began to write last night that the story I was writing was quite probably one "for children" (which isn't to say that adults might not enjoy it too).

I've heard a number of authors say, in various ways, that they primarily write "for themselves." If the story doesn't please them, keep them interested, or make sense to them -- how will it do any of those things for someone else? I think that makes more intuitive sense to me than the kinds of writing advice you sometimes see that you ask you to picture a very specific audience: say, seven year old girls or ten year old boys. I am shaped by more specific thoughts of audience when I set out to revise, but in the opening draft, I am primarily just trying to listen well and get down, as truly as I can, what I'm hearing and imagining.

Maybe the more true answer is that I write stories because I love stories, and I write stories in the hopes that one day those stories might find their way to other people who love them too. As Madeleine L'Engle used to say, when asked who her stories were for, "they're for people."

All of this is somehow tied up for me in the "where does the meaning of a story reside" question as well. But that's probably a post for another day.

Reading Harry With 20/20 Hindsight

When the final Harry Potter book was published last year, I knew I'd be in for a bit of a let-down once I finished reading it. I actually read it twice in a row, as I've done with all the HP books: first to myself, then out loud to my husband. In the case of Deathly Hallows, I kept the book out for a while longer so I could continue to follow along with some book discussions online, though I found myself needing to quietly lurk rather than diving in head-first the way I had after Half-Blood Prince was published. (The online discussions following that book were just golden: some of the best literary talk I've ever enjoyed.) It wasn't that I didn't have anything to say, but I just found myself needing some space to think it all through and assimilate the ending.

I put DH aside at the end of last year, and somehow I've mostly resisted the occasional urge to pick it back up. I just kept sensing that it wasn't time to read the final book again, and that when I got around to it, I'd probably want to start at the beginning and read the whole series: a huge time investment. I sensed I needed a breather from Harry, even though I continued to check in with discussions from time to time.

And I've not regretted the break. It's been a terrific reading year filled with lots of other books (I'm already getting excited about writing my end of the year "favorites" list, and it's only October!).

Still, just lately I've found myself pulled back, oh so gently, to Harry. I'm in the midst of reading John Granger's Deathly Hallow Lectures (great read so far!) and I also recently began to re-read Sorcerer's Stone, in celebration of the 10th anniversary of the first U.S. edition.

I've been reading along slowly, savoring and enjoying those first few chapters of Sorcerer's Stone that introduce us to Harry and his worlds, both muggle and magical. It's been a delight for all the reasons it was originally a delight (what a good story!) but it's been extra fun because I suddenly find myself having "a-ha" moments every few pages. I feel like a cartoon character with light bulbs going off overhead.

How delicious to see the seeds of so many important parts of the story planted right here in the very beginning. One of the elements I enjoyed most about DH was that terrific sense of coming "full circle" -- all the echoes from the early books (especially book 1) resounding through book 7. But it's fun to pick up on them as I read along in the opening. Some of those seeds are so obvious, and others are tiny, barely noticeable.

And it all makes me wonder about Rowling's creative process, especially the fascinating question of how her story's beginning shaped its ending, or how its ending shaped its beginning (I know, it sounds a bit like "which came first, the chicken or the egg?"). But one does have to wonder, noticing all these marvelous seeds in the first book, if Rowling had any clue what a garden she'd planted. We know she plotted all seven books from the start, but it's also clear (from things she said and just from common sense knowledge of human creativity) that the overall epic changed and grew, staying fresh for her as she wrote -- there were moments when characters surprised her, or when she veered away from one path and chose another. So how many of these seeds were purposefully planted, ones she knew would bloom into important moments later? How many of them just flowed out as she wrote that first draft (and what an imaginative rush that first draft must have been!) and then jumped out at her later as moments she knew she could dig down deeper and draw attention to?

There are all the important "artifacts" of course, that make their first appearances here, like Dumbledore's deluminator and Sirius' motorbike. But what I love are the sentences that leap out at you from the page as though you're wearing magical post-seventh-book glasses:

"You-Know-Who killed 'em. An' then -- and this is the real myst'ry of the thing -- he tried to kill you too." (Hagrid to Harry, when telling him about his parents' deaths)

"But what happened to Vol-, sorry, I mean, You-Know-Who?" (Harry, asking Hagrid an important question, and already showing a penchant for just saying Voldemort's name right out!)

"Some say he died. Codswallop, in my opinion. Dunno if he had enough human left in him to die." (Good on you, Hagrid. You're smarter than you look!)

"Never mess with goblins, Harry...Like I said, yeh'd be mad ter try an' rob it..." (Hagrid, telling Harry about Gringotts, right before they go there the first time. Little does Harry know he's actually going to be mad enough to try it someday! And isn't it fun that right here in the opening chapters of book 1 we see dragon fire in the tunnels, and it's Griphook who opens the vaults for them!)

"I really don't think they should let the other sort in, do you?...I think they should keep it in the old wizarding families..." (Draco, telling Harry about Hogwarts at Madame Malkin's robe shop, before they've been properly introduced.)

"Well, I say your father favored it...it's really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course...And of course, you will never get such good results with another wizard's wand." (Ollivander to Harry, when Harry goes into his shop to buy his wand. These lines just feel fraught with weight now, don't they?)

All bolds are mine, of course! I'll stop for now, as Ollivander's is about as far as I've gotten. But I'm thoroughly enjoying my read-through of Sorcerer's Stone, aided by the magic of 20/20 hindsight.