laura's world

Could it have been dyeing eggs with natural dyes on Saturday afternoon at the SERC's charming nature center that got us started? Maybe it was talking gardening with friends there, or remembering a certain hushed and intimate deer run-in along one of the trails last spring while Gabriel slept in my arms.

Something opened the door to the spirit of Laura Ingalls Wilder, which has been hovering about the house and moving among us these past days. Now, if you had been present to witness the piles of colored foil candy wrappers littering the dining room table after church and Easter egg hunting yesterday, you might be skeptical. Where indeed is the single hard brown cake of maple sugar at each child's place? Surely they are nibbling away at them slowly, speaking only when spoken to like quiet bunnies possessing untold powers of restraint, determined to make the holiday sweetness last as long as possible.

Well. I'm afraid the candy situation is the opposite of Little House living. But bracket that for a moment; let me tell you about how Gabriel begged to read Little House in the Big Woods with us on Saturday, and how he sat rapt, leaning against my right knee, for an entire chapter. And how when Frances, leaning on my left, begged for a second chapter, he chimed in and begged along with her. And how he later wandered away from the table during lunch, picked up the book and held it in his lap on the couch, saying Please Mama, please oh please read more to us.

What an unexpected bit of happiness! Who would ever think a just-barely three year old boy would be so smitten with life in the Big Woods? Reading these chapters together, and including Mike this time around, has made for the most pleasurable experience of shared family reading. Frances, having read many of these books last year, gets to be the big sister with superior knowledge while at the same time exercising noblesse oblige in inviting her little brother to partake with her in the language and imagery of the Ingalls family life. She even tolerated Gabriel's request to hear the story of Grandpa and the Panther three times (so far) without complaint. It's a pretty good story, after all.

Gabriel incorporates his favorite stories into pretend world, entering in alongside (or as) the story's characters in his imaginary play. Usually this means crashing around the kitchen as a dinosaur, or declaring he is The Red Cross knight while stabbing an invisible dragon. So you can imagine my surprise and delight as I peered through a doorway to see him asking Frances to make the beds just like Laura and Mary do yesterday (picture him "fluffing" all the pillows in the house with great determination) and then later observe the two of them playing at being industrious little helpers, dusting and cleaning and making butter with a tinker toy churn and paddle.

As for Frances, now that she is - as she will tell you - five and five-sixths years old, she is more awed by the Ingalls' abilities and accomplishments. She also notices what is missing. When we read today about Mary making a dress for Laura's doll for Laura's birthday, Frances marveled at her skill. They know how to do so many things! she sighed, then a moment later turned to me and said, but why don't they know how to read yet??

Besides a newfound enthusiasm for the domestic arts, the kids have been profoundly nature-oriented of late. Maybe it's that our more limited transporation situation has been keeping us closer to home, or it's simply the irresistible swing into warmth and growing things outdoors, but I like to think it has something to do with Laura's orientation to the natural world. We have been awash in her articulation of a child's attunement to signs of seasonal change, such as fascination with the dripping icicle that heralds spring. I know it has shifted my backyard vision.

Frances led the charge to explore under the footbridge in our neighborhood yesterday. I spied a bumpy-backed toad along the banks, so stagnant murky water notwithstanding, we all had to tramp down and take a closer look. Better still than the toad was a beautiful green speckled frog who stared up at us with copper-rimmed big black eyes for a long few minutes. We returned his gaze in awe. He finally jumped closer, and Frances begged him to hop into the apron she made of her Easter dress, but he declined.

The best part of all this good clean fun has been its salutary effects on Frances. As you may know, I had been at a loss before her puzzlingly bad behavior last week. But being with her family, lots of time outdoors, freedom from schedules, increased solidarity with her brother, and swinging and singing her wild crazy songs all by her lonesome in the backyard have brought her back to herself. Little House in the Big Woods is a long thread that has been quietly looping itself in and through all of those things, stitching them up neat and tight. 

But will the seam hold under the pressure of school tomorrow? 

(One last aside: does anyone out there use the Little House on the Prairie homeschooling curriculum? It must exist, right? With the exception of the delayed reading thing, I think it might be a grand pedagogical success.)