A weekend with the girls.  And my boys too of course.  A trip up north to visit old friends and see new sights was perfectly inspiring, enlightening, and exhausting alike.  No matter the circumstances, it seemed that the reoccurring theme remained the same:  Lively conversation.  When it was just us ladies driving about we discussed beautiful thought-provoking subjects.  In the evening over a glass of wine (so what if I was the only one indulging) we reviewed the oh so necessary details of birth with some mama’s to be.  After sleep finally overcame my little ones a veteran mother made light and joy of parenting in such a way that it was nothing short of contagious.  There were discussions directed at our destination for the trip in the first place; fermentation.  And then in turn the discussions I found myself having instead of such a lecture with a couple of mama’s and their children around a giant sand pile filled with treasures of rocks and shells and other interesting artifacts that can be dug with the right construction tools.

We embarked on our trip to Temple Maine specifically to attend a workshop on the magic and beauty of the fermentation transformation for storage of food.  While my girls took care and jotted down many notes, my little man was not quite as content as I anticipated, relaxing on my back for the duration.  So… we wandered.  And we chatted with some others in quite the same boat.  At first I felt a little left out and disappointed that yet another opportunity had been missed.  But then things changed.

With thoughts on homeschooling, child-rearing, home building, and playing alike I realized I wasn’t really missing out after all.  I had grand views of this family’s courage and grace with the world around them.  My littlest boy brought me all over the property in a way I surely would not have experienced otherwise.  He allowed me befriend these two ladies when without a doubt I would have been too busy had he not been ready to explore.  And I would have completely missed the joyful conversation I had with the homesteader’s five-year old son about the current rain conditions, the state of their climbing tree’s (or lack their of) and general knowledge of the earth around him.  This was by far the most fascinating part of my experience at The Living Local School.  First hand I saw the outcome of a boy brought up with out (or with depending on which way you look at it…  I prefer the latter).  He stood atop the mountain of sand with his hard hat firmly in place, barefoot and dirty, deeply invsested in his immediate surroundings.  Not something you view on your average five year old.  I have to admit.

Of course, I did spend some time in the classroom…

The weekend so beautiful, so serene, was yet another reminder to open my eyes.  Just see.  Just be.