unexpected resident of pioneer village

The restless little lads and I took a walk

and the observant one noticed the fox on the lane.

pioneer village day 4

At the flour mill we learned how the pioneers

had their wheat ground into flour.

At another place we saw how the pioneers

would make brooms from sorghum.

The cabinet maker showed us the tools used to make furniture.

But the favourite of the week...?

Unanimously... the "tin man"! The tinsmith.

The week is finished. It was great fun!

We did a lot, saw a lot, heard a lot...

and we have a newer, deeper appreciation for our Canadian Heritage.

pioneer village day 3

Today we learned about the pioneer's livestock; the cows, the geese, the sheep, the turkeys, the ducks, the pigs and the horses. We learned how the pioneers used every bit of a butchered animal, the skin, the meat, the bones, the feathers. We learned a folk dance- not the boys, they refused to pull their hands out of their pockets to participate.

The little ones are feeling more at ease at the pioneer village.

This is good because they participate more.

This is not so good because they are more rambunctious.

pioneer village day 2

Why is it that yesteryear intrigues us so?

pioneer village day one

Looking through windows into the past.

Little people dressed up learn about the pioneer lifestyle.

Butter churning, tin craft, spinning wool,

skills from days gone by.

end of summer

Today the weather certainly indicates that summer is passing and that kids go back to school and folks go back to work. And my to-do list hasn't been finished, rather it is barely started. And I wanted to do more with the big kids so that memories are made and that summer isn't just about working and earning but also a time to connect and to grow and to teach and to love. And today I yelled at the kids because I was frustrated and worried that connecting and growing and teaching and loving moments pass too quickly and that again we fail to grasp them as they blow by. And the wind blows yellow through the golden rod and the pines. And little ones notice my appreciation for the golden tossing yellow and pick 2 bunches that now stand in the kitchen window to remind me of time that blows through our lives. That spring palettes are replaced with end of summer palettes and that soon the flowers will be gone and that a passing glance is never enough to really see them.

an old place

The gate is closed, the driveway grassed over, but the old place still stands, hidden behind a grove of cedars. A few years ago, perhaps 4 or 5, I stopped here for a garage sale. The old white chair in our attic came from here, as did a child's rocking chair. It was a lovely home, tucked away between the fields. With tears in her eyes the woman agreed when I complimented her home. It was the family home, it had been for 150 years. They sold it. Sold it 10 years earlier, to developers, and then rented it back. Her husband had built a home in NB, on the ocean, a timber frame. The new place stood empty, for 10 years. The woman couldn't leave the family farm. She was afraid of the house falling into disrepair, of 150 years falling into ruin.

And so it did.

Crocus in September?

Remnants of a former garden.

It is a bumper crop for apples this year.

I wonder who it was that planted these and who it was that picked the fruit.