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So, are you ready?

It's that time of year again! Yep, time to prepare for the seasonal celebration of death, honor those who have passed away, face our own immortality and dwell on the wonders of the afterlife. As usual, M&K have been planning a party for weeks & have nearly wrapped up their costume designs. (Which, if you know our family, should be easy to predict - as always, they're going as little Mum-mies.) Certainly, an annual, festive excitement pervades the whole country & has even spread across the world. So, please allow me be just one of many who will greet you this week with that dear, recurring chant from our childhoods: 

          "HAPPY HOWARD CARTER-KING TUT'S TOMB DISCOVERY DAY!" (Trick or treat?)
 
Except for a week or two of high school World History -- which was supposed to be a review, but was all new to me -- I could not recall a thing about Ancient Egypt. I'd always heard that this was one of those subjects, like dinosaurs or singing vegetables, that supposedly turned kids onto learning. But, based on my own experience, where teachers generally devoted 3-5 class periods per civilization before moving on to the next millennium, I was in a bit of a panic: How could I possibly fill 4 weeks of homeschool history on such a dull, uninspiring topic?
(Admittedly, a Nile-istic attitude.)

I went with my strength. There was one lesson about Ancient Egypt that I not only memorized as a kid, but - and I add this in all modesty here - that I still remembered perfectly as an adult. So, just like back in the day, I was willing to demonstrate my mastery of this subject matter if necessary & upon request (my own - for I am nothing, if not obliging). And now, thanks to youtube, I even had an accompanist: 

OK then, that got us through the first two days of the month! Our golden girls were delighted to learn the words & practice all those form-idable, op-pose-able palms moves... why, they continuously roamed the halls in head bobbing, stylized sync! [Well, until I told them they could stop. Sure, 72 hours of this is par for the Egyptian course, but homeschoolers tend to pick things up a little faster, so we were able to declare our proficiency after only 48 hours (not counting the snack and government-mandated napping breaks).]

I hesitate to share the next step in our exploration of Egyptology's merits & nuance, but might as well since perhaps it highlights the full extent of my desperation curriculum-creation powers: Again, I turned to youtube - aka, vestige of all that is educational and worthy of attention - & played The Bangles' Walk Like an Egyptian. Thank Ra, the girls much preferred "King Tut." (Can I get an Amen-Ra?)

Of course, this was all just as I planned it. M&K found my approach extremely motivating. And, the following week, completely took over the direction of our Egyptian studies.

Which meant a play. On words. In 8 scenes. Mikaela was the primary playwright, but they worked collaboratively to come up with ideas for action which "must combine tragic & comic elements" to meet the artistic criteria set by the demanding director (older sister). Mikaela also wrote new lyrics for a musical interlude. Although it was in the same tempo as Steve Martin's, she claimed her song was a much improved version since "It's more factually accurate." They then set about memorizing lines, making costumes & props, and rehearsing for hours. Well, there were several minutes of rehearsal, but add those to the hours of arguing, storming off and refusing to continue under such creative duress and you've got real, honest-to-goodness drama!
 
In addition, Katrianna composed a ballad to be sung by Amenhotep (Katrianna) to honor Cleopatra (isn't she a doll?) as the curtain (baby blanket) fell, a subtle signal to the dense audience (it was SRO - all chairs were taken by Thutmose, the scribes, Osiris, miscellaneous embalming equipment...) to begin shouting rounds of "Bravo!" & "Encore!" All of that happened right after Amenhotep weighed King Tut's heart on the scales of justice to find that "Sure nuff, it's light as a feather!" & we watched as the two buddies played a riveting game of Hungry Hippos in the afterlife waiting room. [For those of you keeping score for fantasy Hungry Hippos, Amenhotep won. Tut-tut! But only after first spotting Tutankhamun a 3 marbles lead, the fair way to proceed after one guy just got his brains pulled out through his nose in scene 7 (by a fancy silver plated 'S' shaped bookmark, a gift to Mikaela which kept slipping off the pages & made a lousy bookmark, but it was an excellent brain hook).]

Then there was a field trip to the Houston Museum of Natural Science. Normally seeing their extensive Egyptian collection would have taken roughly 7 minutes, but on one of our visits (actually, this time it was to play with the Simple Machines exhibit), we happened onto a class of third graders being lectured to by a matronly docent. Katrianna kept straying over to their group gathered in the corner, huddled around a small cabinet of Egyptian artifact goodies that were brought out one at a time for prompt display once the woman paused to relock the treasury's door & securely deposit its key back into her pocket. Our daughter was mesmerized. She scooted in closer, sidling up between two girls who were paying great attention to smoothing the seams on their crisply pleated, navy blue skirts. Her hand shot up! And there it stayed as the flustered docent droned on. And on. And on. Wow, I thought, could this mean that she really wanted to be in school? Had she been unable to tell me that she yearned for this sort of social interaction? That she was so eager to seek out others whose expertise could teach her more than she was learning at home?

It was humbling, but I reminded myself that this was always her choice to make. However,  she'd managed to move up another row & the chaperones, if they ever noticed, might get unnerved at such a display of insolence. So, I tapped her on the shoulder. And tapped. And tapped some more until she finally acquiesced and disconsolately followed me over to the other side of the museum's basement. "So, you really liked that class, huh? The teacher was pretty interesting, wasn't she?" Clearly frustrated, Katrianna said nothing, so I answered for her. "Yeah, it might be fun to go to school like those kids. And get explanations to all your questions. What was it you wanted to ask her about just now?"  Katrianna stared at me, confirming my suspicions of teacher-mom inadequacy, and then replied, "I wanted to tell her that she was wrong. Khafre's pyramid looks taller, but Khufu's is really. And they're in Giza, not the Valley of the Kings. And after they did that CAT scan thing, no one thinks Tut was murdered anymore!" She sullenly walked over to pedal the stationary bike until its light bulb flickered on....

After we'd officially finished with our Egypt month of studies, we started Christmas vacation. It gave Mom a much needed break from the rigors of academia. And, amid holiday activities, carol singing, present making and Peanut's specials, it gave M&K a much needed chance to finally break into the rigors of academia they'd so desired. (Until then, they'd felt E-gypped.) "OK, Mom, that settles it," pronounced Katrianna, who was flat on the floor examining an 11x17 xerox copy of the Rosetta Stone. Laying her 3" diameter magnifying glass aside for a moment, she declared, "I'm going to have to learn Greek!" Her progression in deciphering hieroglyphs was unacceptably hampered by this linguistic deficiency and how else could she be certain that Jean-François Champollion had correctly translated all 3 scripts? Sure, she could engrave the hieroglyphs & demotic script with confidence onto her handmade model magic RS replica, but that was hardly satisfactory... And, despite the fact that when we went to Europe a year later & she was limited to one carry-on bag for packing all of her belongings, she insisted on taking along that same magnifying glass for the express purpose of using it in the British Museum to verify the Rosetta Stone's authenticity.

In January, we started back to school & other topics. But, for her New Year's resolution, Katrianna solemnly vowed, "I have to study every day if I want to be an Egyptologist. So that's what I'll do." With that, her Independent Studies began in earnest. On Easter, the Bunny (not without reservations due to his keen sensitivity to irony) delivered the request topping her wish list: The Book of the Dead, replete with be(plastic)jeweled cover & full page, color photos (just like the original). All that year & into the next, she read from her growing repository of meticulously detailed Egypt books, including the Cairo Museum's Collection Guide. Within a week, Katrianna memorized its floor plans & set the daily agenda for our family's impending(?) visit. She also drafted several letters to her hero Zahi Hawass, though they were never mailed because her uncooperative parents refused to finalize our (her) travel itinerary & "C'mon, can't you find a customer in Cairo, Dad?!" After all, how would it look if she sent a resume to the Secretary-General without specifying her dates of availability for meeting with him in person? Not an advantageous way to negotiate her responsibilities & membership on the Supreme Council of Antiquities, is it? But, alas, her best laid pyramid schemes have yet to result in a trip...  

So, no kidding, here's what the kids had to do to satisfy my original syllabus expectations:

Science
Explain 'What is archaeology?'
Experiment w/moving heavy loads w/'logs' (Lincoln logs) 
Geography
Draw, color & label Egypt map
Math
Use compass to make equiv sides & draw pyramids, cut out, fold & tape
Games: play Totally Tut; learn & play Senet
Mythology & Writing
Read & discuss Egypt's divine kingship chapter in big MYTH book & write summaries, responses or illustrate the following stories: The Wandering Eye; Preparing for Eternity; The Duat; Thoth & Horus' Eye; The Dream of Thutmose (make up Sphinx riddles)
Play Word-within-Egyptian Words game

Art
Make Egyptian mummy mask w/paints & "jewels"
History & Reading
Read pages about Egypt in History of the World (compare DK to B&N); read aloud A Little History of the World Egypt chapter; kids pick out & read a few library books
Identify famous pharaohs: King Tut, Ramses II and... umm, TBD
Hieroglyphs: become familiar with character script, learn to write name
 
And here's what they did to satisfy their own:

Science
Learn intricacies of mummification process, incl all technical aspects of brain removal & organ preservation; Watch NOVA The Mummy Who Would Be King video about Ramses I mummy found in Canada; Wrap a mummy, then take turn as the mummy to be wrapped; Understand & explain process of carbon dating; Practice archaeology digging & brushing techniques on 'You Dig It' Kit's clay-encased miniature pyramid, sarcophagus, skeleton & amulets (K's bday giftcard choice); Watch Ancient Egypt --kids archaeology video; K continues pursuit of archaeologist career in dirt, sand or snow mounds where she uncovers miscellaneous Mom-buried treasures (ancient, delicate ping pong balls); Watch PBS Newshour's Face of a Pharaoh about reconstructing Tut's face; K develops her own theories to explain the "unsolved mysteries" of various pharaohs' deaths; K researches native & endangered animals of Egpyt w/DK Animal, Safari & Geosafari cards; K makes Shrinky Dink pyramid puzzle (for our Chemistry states of matter unit); Build shaduf w/Tinker Toys & test (before we got it to work, we blithely addressed fellow lab mates as 'Hey, Shadoofus!')

Geography
Study 3 different Nat'l Geo Anc Egypt maps + "Great People of the Past"; Watch Touring Egypt video -- explains ancient & modern sites; Memorize regions where pharaohs are buried, ID on map 

Math
K draws pyramid blueprints, incl her detailed 'Secret Room' discovery plans; Play Math Pyramid game; Complete Egyptian numbers worksheet + make own probs; Figure volume of our paper pyramids w/Dad; Build various sized step pyramids w/Lego; K makes "fortune teller" with math probs & Egyptian pharaohs' names (spelling practice) on alternating flaps
 
Writing
M&K make up & perform Egypt play
M writes King Tut essay based on bk suggestion
M makes her own 7 pg version of The Egyptian News (part of it covers Elvis -- he's from Memphis)
K writes & types up in most ornate font "Cleopatra & King Tut: A Relationship of Time!" Her fly page promises "- A Dangerous Story! - And a Great One! - And You Will Love to Read It! - And a Love One!" Includes: moment of destiny when Cleopatra's crown is blown off & it is retrieved by "love at first sight" Tut, a palace in Giza, lots of dancing + praising Ra, followed by a wedding, the birth of Nefertiti (their daughter) w/examples of her 1 yo hieroglyphs & 3yo bday celebration, touring Sparta & purchasing a summer home there (in the nice neighborhood, not the one where "Spartans were still busy punching each other"), more action in "dark & creepy" woods, and the perils of repeatedly battling a "man-munching" cobra.

Art
Make amulets, scarab beetle & other symbols w/modeling clay
Make rings + necklaces patterned after Egyptian designs in Fun with Beads: Ancient Egypt kits (found in our Met MoA store at 80% off) 
 
History
K preps & teaches us Egyptology lessons, followed by true "pop" quizzes (administered during meals, while grocery shopping, in car...)
K memorizes ALL of the pharaohs' kingdoms & orders {though she skipped phyla in her classes? - still, a phar-aoh cry from what I'd planned...} Pride forces M to learn most.
Learn about gods & symbols: Ra sun; Horus falcon; Bastet cat; Scarab beetle; Ankh life; Anubis jackal
Hieroglyphs: Learn to write everyone's name; write secret messages/decode; include hieroglyphs in essays, stories & newspaper headlines

Related History

Watch documentary on Egypt's WWII involvement (M was studying WWII in the spring, but K's Egypt vid covered this. K also listens as M describes WWII facts & the novels she reads, so they both throw around WWII terminology and trivia, usually mixed in with Egyptian references and German culture, unaware that most people cannot talk about Cleopatra, Akhenaten, Napoleon and Hitler all in one sentence.)
K rereads Bible stories related to Egypt, ie Moses, pharaoh, plagues, Exodus; Watch The Prince of Egypt animated vid
Learn about pyramid of Quetzalcoatl, Chichen Itza, Mexico
See Night at the Museum in theater (kids' reviews: "Terribly unrealistic" & "Fun!")
 
Reading
Fiction & NF Books: Encyclopedia of Ancient World; Encyclopedia of Ancient Egypt; Nat'l Geographic's Egypt (PBS show bk); Royal Diary series' Cleopatra - read book + watch video; Illustrated comic classic Cleopatra; How the Amazon Queen fought the Prince of Egypt; British Museum's Anc Egypt pop-up bk; Great Bk of Archaeology; Mummies, Pyramids & Pharaohs; Pyramids & Mummies; Ms Frizzle's Adventures in Anc Egypt; Tutankhamun's Gift; Hatshepsut; Cleopatra; DK Revealed: Ancient Egypt; The Egyptian News; Egypt in Cross-section; Letters Home from Egypt; The Curse of the Cheese Pyramid (Geronimo Stilton); Look what came from Egypt; Pharaoh's Egypt; The Egypt Game (Newbery award but M dislikes); Everyday Life in Anc Egypt; Inside the tomb of Tut; Akhenaton & Tut: the Religious Revolution; Tut: Mystery of the Boy King; Your Travel Guide to Anc Egypt; Going to War in Anc Egypt; Egyptian Cinderella; Magic Schoolbus Mummies in the Morning; Curse of the Pharaoh; Secrets of the Sphinx; Mystery of the Egyptian Mummy; Egypt diary: Journal of Nakht; Mystery of the 9 Scarabs - games, activities, bkground; variety of modern travel guides
 
And More Books (from K's Egyptology Ind Studies year #2): Ramses II, Egyptology, Book of the Dead, Ency of Anc Egypt, Atlas of Past Times, Egypt: The World of the Pharaohs, Chronicle of the Pharaohs, Scieszka's Tut tut, DK Pyramid, ZH's Tutankhamun: The Mystery of the Boy King, The World in the Time of Tutankhamun, 100 Things You Should Know about Anc Egypt, Mummies, Mummies Made in Egypt, plus follow news developments for discovery of new tombs, ZH's website, etc  

Websites & Computer Games
www.ancientegypt.co.uk - hieroglyphs + underworld game; guardians.net/egypt Brit Museum; www.rom.on.ca Canada museum; Aton Ra @ funschool.com; online Senet

Party
Plan Nov 4th Howard Carter anniversary activities (becomes annual event): serve Ancient Egyptian snacks; play Pin the Head on the Sphinx; make up & exchange new Sphinx riddles in the form of anagrams & word ladders; play all Egypt-related board games; K distributes her word find puzzles w/Egypt vocab as party favors

More blog posts about:
Torino Museo Egizio
Dorchester Museum
Vatican Museum
Cleopatra

Chris dutifully prepared for our family's visit to see Old Faithful in Yellowstone National Park by warning our daughters about the many dangers to be wary of when approaching old geezers. Never can be too careful, after all. Then, more as an afterthought (and while Dad was busy reviewing his spelling lessons), the girls and I brushed up on geothermal science - learning all about hot springs, fumaroles, mudpots and geysers (of any age, no need for discrimination). 

So, upon our arrival, we began with the classic Yellowstone tradition: awaiting the spectacle of Old Faithful's eruption! Katrianna & her parents were duly amazed. Mikaela, on the other hand, was not impressed... Fuming. Bubbling just beneath the surface. Building up a head of steam. Finally, reaching the boiling point & blowing a top! Nothing new there for our pre-teen. "Been there, done that," as the kids say. (Forgive me, now I'm gushing.)

Next, we hiked through the Upper Geyser Basin to see its other famous hotspots, including Morning Glory Pool and A Man's Home is his Castle Geyser. As we watched Ol' Faithful erupt twice more from different vantage points along the loop trail,
Mikaela was affected by its commanding grandeur and obviously felt humbled - if only she could draw that kind of crowd! (Hey, Old Faithful's not the only predictable one.)  


Throughout our trek to each & every corner of the park, Mikaela enlightened us with little quotable tidbits to further enhance the enjoyment of our experience, such as "Did you know that Yellowstone has 2,000 earthquakes a year? Unless, of course, there happens to be a swarm today or tomorrow... then we'd get around 10 to 15 an hour." Or, "When the Supervolcano under our feet here blows up - which could be in thousands of years, could be today, or it might never happen, who knows? -  it'll be 1,000 times stronger than Mount St Helen's. And it will cause a climate change all around the world. And, possibly, we'll all go extinct." [For more of these fun facts, you can go to this month's National Geographic cover story, "When Yellowstone Explodes." Hmmm, I wonder if a tween wrote it?]


Probably the kids' most anticipated destination was the Artist Paint Pots, a "blooping" muddy mess that they couldn't wait to see in person. Mikaela found inspiration there, likening the sounds of the bubbly quagmire to "listening to the earth's heartbeat." Her sister, overcome by the rotten egg stench that they also aired, was a little less poetic: "Stinkin' mudpots!" Really, Katrianna was just being insulphurable.







Wildlife abounds at Yellowstone NP, as well. Many times, we found ourselves, like it or not, shuffling off to buffaloes. Driving in the car, we were constantly beside ourselves with bison... luckily, however, we were spared the gory details. I guess we (or, make that, the buffaloes) were just on a fumarole.


 







Near Yellowstone Lake, we also saw our first-ever grizzly bear in the wild. Although Mikaela did remember the bear essentials and maintained a safe & respectful distance, she spent the rest of the week wistfully setting bear hug traps for that two-year-old cub. But, other than a genial marmot who kindly offered his friendship, her young girl's dreams of the wild life came to naught.





The Obamas are traveling to Yellowstone and the Grand Canyon this weekend to highlight our country's park system, encourage families to visit and bring attention to this summer's free weekends program instituted by the president's administration. Yellowstone, established in 1872, was the United States' first national park, as well as the first park of its kind established anywhere in the world - the fruition of a democratic principle that special land & places should belong to all of the people, not just the landed gentry or a privileged few. Don't worry, Dick Cheney (a Wyoming nativist son - wait, has anyone seen his birth certificate?) - it's just for a couple of days & then you can keep all of that hot air to yourself again.

As usual, we were in the middle of an ongoing family feud. This time it was about one of those volatile subjects known to take all of the heat out of a marriage, inevitably leaving an otherwise warm person feeling cold. Yep, you guessed it: Glaciers.

I know, what's new about that?

In our case, it was the specifics of how glaciers are formed. The kids and I were studying subalpine, alpine & tundra biomes for school. First, I gave them my standard preface to all scientific explanations: "I don't know exactly - we'll have to learn more about it together." (Sometimes I do know, but I want to encourage a spirit of inquisitiveness & their enthusiasm for finding their own answers. Other times, I hesitate in order to avoid giving them erroneous or incomplete information. And, perhaps most often, I really don't know.) But, this time I went a little further because the answer seemed snow-crystal clear.

Drawing on my extensive knowledge of such things (based on a lifetime spent as a sea-level Texan), I surmised that glaciers are made of ice & that the ice had once been snow. Basically, the snowflakes continue to pile up until their cumulative weight, plus a process of melting and refreezing, makes them fuse together. This occurs over such long periods of time that the effect produces a permanent, slow-moving, gigantic ice cube.

With a great guffaw, Chris stopped me cold. He informed us that not only was my explanation incorrect, it was woefully simplistic. The girls turned expectantly for his mind-bogglingly complex, extremely technical truth-telling. Suddenly, a paramount work request demanded his immediate attention. But, he assured them, he'd set us straight later. For now, they'd simply have to make due with the cold shoulder. In the weeks that followed, Dad's sense of urgency to break the ice-lock & provide us with a definitive answer had all of the expediency of glacial drift.

But, all of that was soon forgotten -- when we finally arrived at Glacier National Park & got distracted by the purple mountains' majesty we'd always sung so much about. We started at the Apgar Visitor Center where M&K had a lengthy chat with ranger volunteers, riddling them with questions about 1) What were they personally doing to stop the spread of pine beetles? 2) Was the Junior Rangers program really just a front for George Bush's Iraq "additional troops" draft strategy? and 3) In which campgrounds could they guarantee that we'd be able to hang out with grizzlies after hours?





That done, we took a hike (just as those nice folks suggested). We had the stony shores of Lake McDonald all to ourselves and we skipped worn-smooth river rocks atop its fantastically clear, true-blue turquoise waters.








We then began the 52 mile drive along Going-to-the-Sun Road, stopping every few feet (ok, that's an exaggeration - make that, every few yards) for the next even-more-amazing turnout view, thunderous waterfall or gorge-ous hike.
 
By midday, we tramped to the Trail of the Cedars boardwalk and continued on to Avalanche Lake, where four waterfalls tumble into its spectacular basin. It was both our favorite & our most depressing hike in all of Glacier. Near the trailhead, the towering cedars and hemlocks are imposing & impressive, plus there are wonderful views of Avalanche Creek which keeps mossy-green, gurgling company all the way. But, as the rangers warned, the trees start to sicken. Eventually, the woods are permeated with sunlight that glares down upon blackened & splintered stands of whitebark pines and the fallen remains of several other species. A variety of factors have contributed to their demise, but the most significant is man-made global warming which has irreparably damaged ecosystems along the entire chain of the Rockies. At once, we felt how lucky we were to see GNP while much of its beauty was still intact, but we were also overwhelmed with sadness at the realization of what is to come & how very devastating it will be - not only for scenic or selfishly human concerns, but for the many animals, especially the black bears & grizzlies, Clark's nutcrackers, blue grouses and red squirrels, that depend on the gnarly whitebark's annual nut crop to make it through the winters. Surprisingly, as we climbed to the lake, the foliage seemed to recover and actually became tropical-looking, ferny & lush. We gladly took the visual and mental respite it permitted (if we didn't think too hard about why elephant ear-type plants were growing 4,000 feet up) & enjoyed allowing the view, instead of the elevation gains, take our breath away. We camped that night in a campground reduced to waist or shoulder-high shrubs with a view across Saint Mary Lake of wildfire-scorched forest. 
Glacier National Park's land was originally home to the Blackfeet Nation, the Kootenai and the Bitterroot Salish who called this sacred place "the backbone of the world." There are numerous magnificent waterfalls, such as Bird Woman Falls and Running Eagle "trick" Falls, and we learned their mystical legends. When the Going-to-the-Sun highway officially ends, you leave the park's boundary and travel a more pastoral, but equally beautiful & much less crowded, road through the Blackfeet Indian Reservation to reenter in the Many Glacier section further north. As its name suggests, it is the area with the highest concentration of glaciers. (Although, again, the effects of climate change are drastic. In 1850, GNP had an estimated 150 glaciers. A Sierra Club article reported the number had dropped to 35 by 2008. The park website's teacher education pages now list that total at 27.)

On a dawn hike to Lake Josephine, we paused for a while at Swiftcurrent Lake, relishing the early hour, the gently lapping water and the tranquilly empty trails. Our serenity was broken by a quick succession of snapping branches and rustling leaves in the surrounding trees. Then, a shrill scream, hand claps, howls: "Get! Go! Outta here! Help!"

While the woman producing the panicked, piercing yelps ran toward us, we quickly deduced what had happened, leapt right past her & headed straight for the main trail where she'd been as fast as we could go. Without making a sound, we eagerly scanned the thick undergrowth. Nothing!  

By the time she came to rewarn us and offer protection - having successfully freed her bear-repellent spray can from its handy Velcro pouch ten minutes or so later - the mother bear and her cubs were gone. The lady and her husband proceeded to tell us all of the grisly Ursus horribilis stories they could think of on such short notice (just barely 15 of them, but with plenty of admonitions and bear clauses swiped in for us to bear in mind) until there was absolutely no chance that any self-respecting mama bear would still be stateside - which explains the need for Canada's adjoining Waterton Lakes National Park and the two parks' joint designation as an International Peace Park & World Heritage Site. Just when I thought Katrianna couldn't bear it any longer, our hero happily moved on when some other hikers tried to slip past her. Stepping into their stride, she started anew on her close-call tale of terror - bearing witness, she was!

We lingered, Mikaela hoping the return of quiet & calm would lull the cubs back for some of those much-publicized hugs. A ranger appeared to confirm that there had been a bear sighting and imparted sage, safety-first, 'Be Bear Aware' advice... until his wife and two young daughters came rushing up, smiling, as anxious to grin & bear it as we were. He gave a stern look around. Instantly & silently, we all fanned out to increase our search party chances. But no luck. Besides some fresh berry-filled scat, our efforts did not bear fruit. One fine day, we vow to return with bear bells [not] on. 

On our final twilight evening, we stopped along the Sunny Road at the Jackson Glacier overlook. The peaks glowed in pinks & oranges. The canyons' deep green trees melded into distant valley-to-valley carpeting. The glinting river dawdled & then disappeared into the vanishing point of this ever-changing landscape painting. It was difficult to leave such an exquisite and transcendent place. So, Chris enjoined us to take one last photo. He directed, "A little more to the left. No, more to the right. You've gone too far! Katrianna, turn around and stop reading that sign for a second - " Mikaela went to nudge her over, but then she too stood mesmerized by the information plaque.

"Hey, Daaaaad, come see this!"

What is a Glacier? A glacier forms when more snow falls each winter than melts the next summer. The accumulation of snow above presses down on the layers below, and compacts them into ice. Depending on the amount of ice, the angle of the mountainside, and the pull of gravity, the ice may start to move downhill. Once this mass of snow and ice begins to move, it is called a glacier.

Snap! (or is that a cold Snap? I was too busy getting my cramp-ons to tell.) Chris broke out in a cold sweat, a sure indication that the long winner of our family's discontent - made glorious summer by this Going-to-the Sun Road - was finally beginning to thaw.

On August 3, Glacier National Park received the #1 ranking in Top Ten Best National Parks You Don't Know About.

"You're a birdbrain, Katrianna!" Mikaela declared.

Katrianna spun around, gave her sister the eagle eye & replied, "Why, thank you!"

She then resumed her hour-long presentation on the intellectual superiority of the Corvidae family -- crows, magpies & jays. Quite obviously, she's raven mad (or is that crazy as a loon? Despite her seminars, I'm still not very ornitho-logical).

In the early mornings, Katrianna can often be found at a window, bird book in hand, pressing a button to serenade some passing songbird. The befuddled birds sit just outside the windowsill, heads pivoting this way and that to locate their new potential mate or - since we don't truly know what she's saying with these recorded messages - possibly their territorial rival.

Actually, most of the time, she prefers to talk to them herself, sans technological devices. She croons out the window repeatedly and then some crow will show up. They carry on and pass pleasantries, no doubt discussing the weather and/or preferred flight patterns.

Originally, of course, Katrianna didn't know how to cry fowl. Her multilingual efforts began one day when she and I were sitting in the car waiting for Chris & Mikaela who had gone into a ranger station to ask about - what else? - directions to find pairs of nesting raptors in the area. We were near a field, but there was no activity or movement indicating any "life." It was hot, dull, quiet, nothing to do, lethargy. Without warning, Katrianna bursts out at the top of her lungs with "Quack, quack, QUUUUUAAACKKK!" Before she can answer my "What in the world?" what do we hear - yep, a mallard duck calls back from out of nowhere, sounding like it's right beside the car. Katrianna answers, duck responds... I sank further down into the driver's seat, a lame duck.  

More recently, when she was replaying and memorizing the calls in her book, a raven appears - but, this time, Chris was there. He gets so excited, he can't even wait a decent, conversationally-polite interval for the bird to finish its call before he jostles her aside to push the button. He then keeps interrupting Katrianna's poor pal, who gets so frustrated and, quite sensibly, offended that he flies off in disgust. Undaunted, Chris grabs the book and runs to every open window to beckon his fine-feathered friends, madly pushing that call button incessantly and indiscriminately.

Eventually, bereft of her book, Katrianna loses interest and wanders off to find something else she can play with by herself. For the next ten minutes, her father continues unabated & oblivious. I suggest to him that it was originally sweet, even cute, to see him humoring Katrianna and bonding with his young daughter over bird calls, but that perhaps now he should get back to work and not exhaust the battery on her prized book any longer. Sullenly, he agrees.

Not 15 minutes later, I go upstairs to find him alone, back at the window, swiftly riffling through the bird descriptions and scanning the skies as he presses the now nearly muted - but still birdly audible - call buttons. We concur that Katrianna's book should probably be reserved for her and he should only "borrow" it when she knows about it, is present and is also participating. Got it, good thinking! OK, everyone gets back to school/work. Diligence and duty prevail.

Yet, less than thirty minutes pass before I hear in hushed tones, "Psst, hey, psst... Katrianna, c'mere!"  Katrianna gets up from what she's doing and follows her summons (with me not far behind). We find Chris, again clutching the bird book, motioning with his hand and whispering with all his persuasive, enthusiastic might, "C'mon, let's see if we can get them to answer. Aww, c'mon, it'll be - - Oh, hi, Cat!... Katrianna just wanted to call some birds here..."

In the meantime, Mikaela had read the book's introduction which warns against using the recordings in just this way, at least if the birds are endangered species. She begins lecturing her dad against "the evils of harming innocent endangered animals for sport!" Finally, facing his older daughter's threats to report him to the Audubon Society and/or Greenpeace, his younger daughter's sudden & inexplicable disinterest in birding, and his wife's ruffled feathers, for the third time Chris acquiesces. Reluctantly, he returns to his pressing, due-yesterday work project.

Ohhh, imagine the chaos and loss of productivity if we only had a birdbath!

 
On a lark, we made the birds as an art project when the girls were 5 & 8 years old and we were studying everything birdy for Science. It was very easy & fun. A light clay, such as Model Magic, works well, then acrylic paint & gardening or floral wire for legs. There is a lot of room for error & they still come out looking pretty life-like. We use them every year as Christmas and Easter tree ornaments. 

Katrianna's efforts in botany have led to the inevitable --- that's right, Sex Education.  Yep, she's discovered the Joy of Pollination!

The little Luther Burbankette is doing her best imitation of a honeybee and experimenting with cross-pollination in great earnest. Talk is all about anthers and stamens and the ripeness of the pollen. It's really been quite stigmatizing. She's become obsessed with all that is prolific in her plant kingdom.

As an added bonus, she  studied the fine art of "pinching back" and picks certain prospects for a little branching out inducement - there's just no stemming her excitement. She estimated this morning that she has over 1,000 plants in some stage or other - that includes sprouts, seedlings and all. It's likely closer to 100, but she is quite pleased regardless.    
 
Her amaryllis finally bloomed, proving my anxious worries that we had somehow chosen the one & only "dud" bulb were for naught. Indeed, it surpassed our expectations by producing six beautiful flowers, which she interpreted as an indisputable testament to her horticultural omnipotence. She then proceeded to reward her worthy subject by dismantling it, clipping it leaf by leaf, snipping it root by root, until she had reduced it to a mere replica of its former self, a light bulb. Her madness did have a method, however, for it allowed the dissection of one unfortunate soul - wherein she conscientiously adhered to the sworn principles of the Hydroponic Oath - but also uncovered several baby bulblets which she tenderly added to her nursery. I guess that'll teach her to be such a "cut up."

Lately, she's also been urging me to eat as much guacamole as possible - my parental pit-tance perhaps? No, simply a pit-ifully disguised desire for more avocado pits for toothpick skewering & observational purposes. So, now she's raising avocado plants - well, at least that's what they'll be if they reach their full potential, but at the moment they seem to be woeful underachievers who spend their time in stagnant wallowing and self-pity.

For Easter, she did surprise us all with magnanimous gifts of our very own personally decorated and exorbitantly scotch taped alfalfa seed packets, complete with homemade watering cans (paper cups with toothpick holes punched in the bottoms). Accompanying them were detailed instructional booklets which warned of the deleterious consequences of waterlogging, root overcramping & the exact technique for turning young plants regularly (which means on the half hour) toward the sunlight so they can perform photosynthesis. A staunch conservative in these matters, she expects the seedlings -once she's provided them a healthy environment- to make an honest living and earn their own food. 

But, with the exception of the paperwhites which emerged early and in showy profusion so they could have the pond's reflections all to themselves (they are so narcissistic), most of our backyard looks a bit seedy. Last week, Katrianna enriched the soil with peat moss, blackened banana peels and other organic fertilizers to sow lettuce, cucumbers, tomatoes, alyssum, sunflowers, cosmos & marigolds. She's also added a lot of Miracle Grow to her watering can as an antidote to revive the numerous shrinking violets and withering wall flowers.  Yet, she seems confident that she will ultimately sucseed and reap a plantiful harvest due to her willingness to get her hands (well, her gloves) dirty, along with her matchmaking 'natural selection' expertise.

Meanwhile, when dusk overtakes the remains of the daylight and forces her back indoors, she passes the evenings poring over vegetable guidebooks & flower encyclopedias in growing impatients for a bloomin' garden of her own.


Either that, or she plots in poetic couplets:
                                         by Katrianna

               Plants are nocturnal, they wake up at night,
               If you woke at nighttime, you'd be in a fright,
               To see plants who are running, plants in a hurry,
               Plants dropping their leaves in a flash and a flurry,
               Plants from your garden, coming inside,
               Plants who are humble, plants of great pride,
               The African Violet's running, thus,
               He's in a hurry to catch the bus!

[Poem reprinted here with her permission & her insistence that it is "officially quadruple copyrighted." Violators will no doubt be paid back in spades.]

Today is Jane Goodall's 75th birthday!
In 2004, Mikaela spread the news of Goodall's 70th with a front page cover story in her paper:
At that time, Mikaela was in fact torn between wanting to be President of the United States & wanting to be the next Jane Goodall. Initially, it seemed she would go with being the most powerful person in the world. During playgroups, she split her time between her playmates on the swing sets and their moms at the picnic tables where she canvassed for votes (merely requesting signatures on a contractual agreement to vote for her in 2032). And, since we homeschool on the slightest provocation, we also read biographies of all of the past presidents and memorized as much White House trivia as we could. (But we were limited by the fact that my kids' couldn't tolerate being virtually toured around and talked down to by "Barney," George W's schnauzer, for more than 5 minutes. Doggone it, we're really gonna miss him!)  The lure of the White House was undeniable and she had extensive redecorating plans, such as turning the oval office into a playroom. . .

But, ultimately, she instead elected to devote herself to full time motherhood, "adopting" Golden and Glitter, twin chimpanzees, from Jane Goodall. Naturally, I used her wanna-be naturalist aspirations as a chance to have us learn everything we could about Africa and encouraged Mikaela in her Tanzania itinerary travel planning. We compared and drew chimpanzee and human anatomy, read Jane's biography In the Shadow of Man plus her other observation journals and all of her children's books, along with Dian Fossey's Gorillas in the Mist. We knew that, as a young girl, Jane had a beloved stuffed animal monkey, so Mikaela acquired 7 stuffed animal monkeys since obviously that was the key to becoming a professional naturalist. Finally, Jane Goodall's Wild Chimpanzees IMAX easily trumped Jungle Book as her new favorite movie, opposable thumbs up!

Late one night, however, Chris was overcome with worry, unable to sleep, fretting that his little five year old girl would immediately need to start rounds of immunizations, apply for a passport and take machete bushwhacking lessons all before her sixth birthday.  Of course, I laughed off his concerns and he went back to bed, ridiculed but relieved.  I then stayed up wide awake til sunrise wondering if all this monkeying around might truly have dire consequences for our daughter -  all the while dabbing at my Leakey eyes. But, by dawn, I'd regained my composure and perspective, whereas Chris, after his full night's rest, was refreshed enough to deliver a lengthy and heartfelt speech exploring each and every danger posed by living among wild animals - all the way on the other side of the world, did she realize? - in frightening and excruciating detail. Luckily, Mikaela was not so easily deterred and, most probably as a direct result of Dad's little intervention, she declared her choice very soon afterwards. That's right, she fully abandoned her presidential campaign and decided with complete certainty that she would absolutely, positively follow in Jane Goodall's footsteps. (Thereby making Chris a monkey's uncle?)

Mikaela then took up the cause of wildlife around the world with admirable fervor, collecting 1,690 "Pennies for the Planet" and even - after trick or treating exclusively for pennies one Halloween - convincing one of those pre-K teachers (who'd negatively said Mikaela was too participatory and eager a year earlier) to add Pennies for Pandas to her class' kindergarten curriculum the following fall. [In fact, she ended up being  Mikaela's biggest sole contributor, making my little sisterly lions wait inside her front door for a good fifteen minutes while she searched through every purse, change jar and even her son's backpack for pennies to donate.] From then on, all relatives' birthday present inquiries were answered with requests for cold, hard cash - Mikaela's "fun"ds to be put toward chimp adoption fees, land purchases around Gombe National Park or bamboo reserves for pandas in China. And, after our hundredth viewing of Goodall's IMAX dvd (a most cherished Christmas present), Chris finally came around to accepting his daughter as the next Jane Goodall. Just in the nick of time - right before she changed her mind and decided to become a pastry chef.


   














Now it's Katrianna who wants to be the naturalist. . .  Or, after being wowed by Planet Earth, a roving wildlife photographer. And that, too, might evolve into something else before Chris has to learn to fly helicopters so Katrianna can hover above a lion and film its thrilling pursuit of a wildebeest. . .  

But, in whatever goals our kids set for themselves, we hope they can do as much Good-all around as Dr. Jane.
 

Send Jane Goodall your Happy Birthday wishes!
 

March Madness has started a little early around here. Only for us, it's not on a basketball court. Our 3-point baskets are hanging, netted with nothing but peat moss, and bricks, in small shards, are added to the soil to achieve perfect pH balance.

So, move over, Mike Krzyzewski:

Katrianna has convinced the whole family to participate in a "Grow Off!"
                    Are you ready for this?

Yes, it's a round-robin-redbreast tournament to determine who can grow the healthiest plants.  (Vegas lists "Little Sprout" with a -6½ point spread over "Big Sis." Parents aren't expected to make it out of the first round.)

My daughter's intense interest in sprouting seeds is not so much for our consumption, but serves as a necessary developmental step in her dreams of large-scale cultivation. Her future plans to be a naturalist have long included setting up Katrianna's Nature Center to oversee endangered animal breeding programs.

In her pitch to get us to make gardening part of this year's homeschooling studies, she explained it as follows: It is imperative that we devote ourselves to honing our gardening skills in preparation for one day, in the very near future, when she will have to grow healthy and abundant foods to feed all of those endangered animals. We aren't just doing this for her, understand, we are doing this to save all of the world's endangered animals from starvation. (She was astute enough to pick this tactic instead of simply admitting her budding sibling rivalry - see previous post.)

Recently, she also added a new "growth potential" caveat, outlined in her 501(c)3 charity proposal (now at 17 pages and counting), that she plans to "branch out" into endangered plant propagation and save all those threatened botanical species, as well. So there, put up your Dukes, Coach K and Jane Goodall!

At this very moment, we have all sorts of sprouting vegetable, herb and flower seeds indoors. In addition, Katrianna's "forcing" an Amaryllis bulb by the tried and true method (just pin its leaves behind its back, eventually it cries uncle). She's also making eyes at several sprouting potatoes, performing intricate kiwi experiments & hatching pinecones in hopes of reforesting the entire western United States.

Finally, during this morning's breakfast, she successfully captured some squirmy pomegranate seeds from a fresh fruit and potted them up. Relying on the De-meter system as my measure, I wouldn't let her eat any more than six of the seeds, though... Just in case she pulled a Persephone and inadvertently managed to delay spring. Don't you Hades when that happens?

How did it ever occur to us to study such a radical subject as gardening? It could not have anything to do with the fact that every single "What your child should learn" syllabus lists it as a mandatory science item for alternating years until graduate school (or the 5th grade, whichever comes first). Our approach to the subject was surely more original & organic than that...  

Katrianna was the one to push seed sprouting as part of her academic agenda this year. But, in the interest of full disclosure, please note: We do not claim to have invented the lima-bean-in-a-ziplock experiment. As far as I know, kids have been doing that one since around the time man first discovered fire. Only they used those other baggies, the old-fashioned kind, with the fold-in flaps. That's right, the kind we parents used to pack our pb&j in for summer camp, the ones made from the lining of goats' stomachs instead of the "zipper seal." But same idea. (Note to Homeschoolers: add this bit of trivia to your homemade world history timeline, charted on scrolling butcher paper, which winds its way around your dining room and down the hall.)  

Really, if you want to learn more about lima bean sprouting origins, just take the guided Lascaux cave tour in France. (Did you think they painted all the time?)

And, as much as I'd also like to claim Katrianna's gardening interest was an offshoot of my playing Audrey Hepburn and our touring around the Gardens of the World, that's just not so either. It was not the result of seeing Monet's Giverny, British Columbia's sunken gardens, Portland's famed roses, or even Stratford-Upon-Avon's very own "Shakespearean herb garden" (bet Shakespeare wished he'd thought to capitalize on that back in the 1600s - he might not have had to struggle with playwriting & instead could have turned his father's glove making business into a gardening glove making business, thereby assuring his future success).

No, none of those visits made my daughter green with envy. The real impetus for Katrianna's verdant desires was simply sibling jealousy (but I do claim quite a bit of credit for fostering that whenever possible). When looking through Mikaela's old portfolios last summer, Katrianna found her sister's original flowers & seeds section, completed when Mikaela was 5 and she was 2. Exactly what was the attraction? It wasn't the nifty construction paper seed parts with their movable flip-up features, or the labeled diagram worksheets, or the still life watercolor renditions à la Georgia O'Keefe, or even evidence of her sister's kindergarten attempts at flower-themed Wordsworthian sonnets. 

The pure motivational factor in this sudden passion for gardening was to acquire her own set of pages with seed packets & seed samples glued beside them. That's it. They were colorful, commercial, tactile, and as close as our family comes to displaying glitz & glamour.  And, most importantly to both girls, it was that subtle "I have something you don't have" quality, repeated in singsong delivery week after week, that made it a must-do school project.

Leading us back to Shakespeare, who captured the universality of this phenomenon when he penned that famous, so oft quoted line from Romeo and Juliet:

          Do you bite your green thumb at me, sir?     (Act I, scene i)

So, with that, we will Candide-ly continue to tend our own gardens...

Katrianna has been busy refining a self-watering seed contraption. Despite the fact that she actually enjoys hovering over her plants and watering them at the slightest indication that they might need it (or even without any indication whatsoever), she spends much of her time inventing and perfecting various irrigation systems which, theoretically, free her up to pursue other botanical designs.

Her "capillary action machine," as she calls it, has gone through several modifications and improvements, including the use and abandonment of juicy juice box straws, regular straws, popsicle sticks, glue, qtips, duct tape, toothpicks and about 35 dixie cups. But, it still takes more time to implement than the good old-fashioned watering can option.

Believing she actually did want to develop an easier method, Chris got caught up in the excitement and, like any true, empirically-motivated scientist, googled it. He then replicated a satisfactory (to him) solution - oh, did he ever miss the point!

But, now his "experiment" sits alongside hers and provides some good tension and suspense - less in terms of observing how the seeds progress, more in terms of observing how and when my daughter's patience with her overzealous assistant wears out.

It's official: we've become a family of bean counters. No, it's not the recession, as bad as the economy is.

It's also not our vegan aspirations, as we inconsistently but sincerely fail to achieve them. (Besides, just to clarify, vegans eat way more than beans. . .  Nuts, for instance. There are lots of nuts among vegans.)

It's really, truly, that these days we simply spend a great deal of our time counting beans. And seeds. And sprouts. And, hoping and dreaming and, if you will, plotting for the day of fruition, when we can actually count real, live plants instead.

What's pathetic, and shows homeschooling parents might just devote too much time to their kids, is that my husband and I find ourselves conferring late at night (when the kids have finally gone to sleep and we should be having those pressing adult conversations we put off all day). Why?  Well, to struggle with the ethical dilemma of what to do when one of Katrianna's plants begins to wilt. Similar to the proverbial replacement of a dying goldfish before the kid realizes the dire conclusion of overfeeding it. . . At least, in our case, there is no toilet flushing involved and the evidence, all those little dirt particles, can literally be swept under the rug.

We only did that once. OK, maybe a few times.

But, sometimes tough love is necessary. Now our daughter is having to face the consequences of waterlogging her beloved apple seedling. It hasn't been easy. She'd started oh-so-optimistically with ten seeds harvested from a Red Delicious. Five germinated, which of course led to blueprints outlining elaborate configurations of the rows and rows of trees we'd find in her future orchard.

It was not to be. One was lost to fungus, one had instantaneous leaf shrivel, another had root rot, and one suffered inexplicably, despite hours spent poring over gardening advice books and Katrianna's multiple diagnoses and subsequent attempted "cures." The sole survivor didn't have a chance, as her older sister kept diligently reminding her to water it. Begging the question, again, just how conscientious is too conscientious?  

So, we're trying to move on. After that heartbreak, what's next? Surely something foolproof.  This called for a surefire, horticultural confidence builder.

Yep, that means lima beans. In ziplocks. With damp paper towels. Tiny utopian models of self-sufficient eco-systems.  Absolutely no worries.

It's not overly obsessive if I find myself waking hourly to check on the little guys, is it? And, I only sing them three lullabies a night, no more. I think that's fine and they really like it. I can tell, because I only sing one lullaby for the "control group" and they're suffering. Really.

Give your children roots. . . (on a worksheet, preferably with a diagram, to be labeled and colored by the child)