"Microbiology, One of my favorite biologies..."

I'm so happy that our garden hasn't died yet that I'll start us off with a pretty picture of a flowering dill: 

You're Welcome. 

We started out this week right by talking about gut bacteria. Tis the season for all things canning and preserving and we had a few pickles to put up. The kids love pickles and I'm trying to store more things that my kids will eat instead of just what I love. Thus dill pickles: Nahuel is here peeling a garlic clove. 

The really great thing about this process is that even though there's a shortage of jars and lids for canning this year, we could still make pickles. We've never used a natural fermentation process. We started out our science week by learning about good and bad bacteria in our gut and why we need good bacteria. This may have caused a few nightmares about 'super bugs', but it laid the stage nicely for learning how to make naturally fermented pickles. Such an elegantly simple process. It's as simple as getting the right salt to water ratio (4-5 Tbsp :2 quarts) and washing some old jars (practically). You do need to use non-chlorinated water and non-iodized salt. We watched a few Youtube videos but this was the simplest and easiest that detailed the process for us by Farmhouseonboone: https://youtu.be/RsxqLSAmEUM. It made simple work of it, allowing the kids to help with the whole process. 

Here you can see the jar fresh filled with pickles, dille, garlic, peppercorns, and saltwater. The cucumbers are a new, fresh green color. 

This is after 5 days. The color has changed. Maybe it's a bit cold in our kitchen because we all agreed that they needed to be slightly more fermented. I was worried that we would have a sharp learning curve with actually eating these, but Leonardo, our most particular pantry raider, said he loved them. Even after I suggested peeling it because the peel could be bitter. I used lids under the lids and weighed the pickles down below the surface of the water. None of the lids have seals so they gas out and leak as the fermentation process takes place, thus the pan underneath. We'll put these in the fridge today and they'll keep for 4-10 months. 

We had a pretty big week this week in school. One purpose of this blog is to record for ourselves, so we can look back and see how far we've come, remember what we've learned and done etc. But it's also to pass on information for my kids school, of some of what we do. We do homeschool. We decided 100% what we do and how we do it, but My Tech High is the organization that allows us to do so many cool things. In other words, they give us funding, which we would otherwise not have. It's the same funding that is alotted to public schools for each child, but in this case, they use some for administration, and pass the educational resources on to us. What a great win-win system.  

To begin the week we finished our book "Summer of the Monkeys". We've loved this time more than anything with homeschool so far.

This has been the scene at our study table lately:

Ada and Nahuel had their very first day of co-op where they celebrated finishing the book and sharing a few of their favorite things with the other kids in the co-op. While they had their fun, Astor, Leonardo, and I made pompoms, pom poms, and more pom poms to use with Astor's Tinkercrate claw game. 

Together with our co-op friends Ada and Nahuel started 4-H shooting sports. They were both a little nervous, as it's been a while since they shot a gun. Ada was worried that it would kick into her shoulder. Nahuel was worried about the noise, and if his earplugs would protect his ears enough. All the kids shot .22 rifles. It was paired harmoniously with Summer of the Monkeys. Ada came away with the idea that having a pony and a .22 would indeed be about the best thing ever. 

One of the best things about homeschool is that it's not about school. It's about learning. Educating my kids can't be about simple book smarts and arithmetic. I'd be short changing my kids if I didn't try to teach them about the broader spectrum of what success is. So I don't feel bad taking a break from books to get a little work done. We heat half of our home, ideally more, with wood. And this year we have a lot of wood to pile, to split, to stack. The kids moved this stack of wood from where it was to a protected, more convenient place for using it in the winter. 

One other fun family project was putting this slack line obstacle course up between two apple trees in the back yard. It's not quite an obstacle course yet. Mostly just individual challenging tasks. But that just means we have lots of places to grow.

 
Each rope hold is more challenging for one than another...

What came first?

This week our family has had a very serious babysitting gig. Serious in this case is synonymous of New, Important and Eye opening. Our disclaimer is this: We are not country folk. I grew up around horses and fields and grandpa grew a garden. Our family heritage is that of cattle ranchers and horticulturists, and I love me some dirt, big time. But I knew nothing of the improvisation and the constant labor of blood, sweat, death, and love that comes from taking care of many animals and watering systems and crops and weather... Since moving to our new digs, 3 1/2 years ago, so many things have been new and eye opening. Not the least of which has been living next to a farmer who is welcoming to our family learning from this totally foreign and fascinating way of life. Things that are completely normal and mundane for our favorite farmer show me daily that my kids were so sheltered before coming here and being afforded this amazing learning curve. So this has been a science unit indeed for my kids. Admittedly, they mostly try to keep up with me as I move them along through the routine that is keeping many animals large and small alive, but they help sometimes and learn little things here and there. The most important lessons we are remembering right now are: "Don't chase that (insert whatever animal it is)...", "You can't hold it if you're scared of it, because you'll drop it", and "If you're going to come in here, you have to learn to be bossy with the dogs."

These are some of our babysitting subjects:  

 

Bart is a tender heart who is often mistaken for a bully. If he looks huge to you in this picture, he's about 3Xs as big as you think. And 3Xs as sweet. He's in the truck waiting for his boss, who won't be home for some time.

Molly begs for treats, because that what she does.

Howard the shy burro ate out of my hand today. He doesn't know it yet, but we're going to be best-buds. I bet he's a really good listener as long as you make no sudden moves.

 

The biggest learning curve of the week has been with these little babes. They are a-hatchin like hot cakes. This morning we spent most of our homeschool time watching one of them break through his shell through the window of the incubator. Then we came home and watched lots of Youtube videos to make sure we can keep them alive for the next few days.

Monkey Business

One thing that sets this year apart from others for us...Is not Covid. Though for Ariel it's part of his motivation, I don't mind the idea of kids going to school wearing masks. They can do hard things. It wouldn't be the end all and be all of their education. A very big part of doing homeschool this year is that we found people. Other people who we don't hardly know, but give the impression of being loving and accepting of kids on a journey to learn. All of them have or are kids at different ages, levels, personalities, and capabilities.  

Unfortunately with writing about homeschooling, you're going to get an earful of the why.Why we're homeschooling...Everyone has a different reason. But first, because now I'm a homeschooler...(and I can't tell you how good it feels to say that...) Why were my kids in public school? Because the school here did a pretty darn good job of getting the basics into my kids. They were exposed to lots of other kids that my hermitish nature never exposed them to before. If there were a Homeschool conflict (which never happens) between exposure and protection, exposure would win in our family. I'm of the idea that kids need to be exposed to lots of things to prepare them for life. Protection comes in other forms. Protection from abuse, protection from physical harm, but not from people on the whole, not from most germs or viruses and certainly not from ideas.

We found some people. They had a whole year planned before we even got on board, but have welcomed us in our late, running to catch the bus, kind of way. But we are so excited for the things they have planned. Once a week we'll do Shakespeare, archery, birds and bunnies, and currently...monkeys! We havn't read chapter books aloud since the dvd player took over the car on camping trips...And this has given us the best experience. My kids choose everyday if they do a puzzle or a coloring book and just listen to the story. We're reading Summer of the Monkeys by Wilson Rawls with the people we found, our homeschool co-op. Other books are planned for the year, providing us with a perfect morning routine. I lack in the routine area, so someone giving me this perfect excuse to give myself just enough of a routine to create sanity for my kids with has been ideal. 

Today, along with the other science topics we've researched by way of Youtube videos, we watched a few about Monkeys. Specifically, the invasive species of monkeys, the Rhesus Macaques, and tried to imagine what it would be like to have 30 small monkeys grabbing and biting us all at the same time.

Nadaremos....Nadaremos...

You may remember a line from the classic Disney movie Finding Nemo where Dorie and Father clown fish are doing what they do, looking for the small clown fish. Dorie says in a sing songy tone, "Just keep swimming...Just keep swimming..." 

This line was somewhat humorous, if I remember correctly, from watching it in English. But the first time I saw Finding Nemo in Spanish... The line took on, what was for me, an entirely new tone and meaning. I hadn't been speaking Spanish for very long and so the fact that I could actually watch a movie in a foreign language and understand all of the words and meanings, I'm sure, contributed to the overall hilarity and significance of this menial play on words. I remember listening to that part of the movie, understanding it, laughing my head off for a few minutes. I might have laughed so hard I cried...or peed... And even though I still think it's funny, it mostly means something to me when I don't know what is to be done...

Right now, I don't know what is to be done. At the risk of dissecting the proverbial frog: In Spanish, the translation for the word 'swimming' is 'nadar'. The translation for the word 'nothing' is 'nada'. It's not uncommon in many Spanish dialects to pull words together, blending the sounds to make a new word, keeping the same meaning as the complete word. In this case: "nadaremos" means simply: "we swim." But take the two words 'nada haremos' blend them together like a gaucho, it comes out "we do nothing".  I know. Hilarious, right? Yes, I know you're rolling in your chairs...But tonight I've explained in words what in my head has been rolling around and making me laugh for over 15 years. I don't often explain what I laugh about. It would mean letting out a few small dangerous animals that I feel much safer keeping caged. 

But there you have it. What on earth is to be done? With a deadly virus, hundreds of conspiracy theories being let loose on a believing world, a catastrophic political climate, and the culmination of our civilizations historical prejudice and privilege being fanned with an oil cloth, corruption at the core of it all; Here I am. Trying to raise my family, find a little joy, and learn something useful as I go. What is to be done? Nadaremos...

So with that I introduce my blog. It's a couple years old, but it tells a sort of story. No need to even look, but it began as a way to publish work toward my bachelors degree from Utah State University and write with an eye to creating an open exploration of what we want to create in our home. 'Palenque', which translates to 'holding post' is the name we've given our home endeavors. Right now that includes our dreamy little homeschool. So this takes on the form of documenting and expressing what we do and what we feel with this new adventure. 

My heart has always been a homeschooling heart. Somehow (with a hellovalot of work) I fell into a home that is ideal for adventures with animals, biology, dirt, food, stars, and many other things worth exploration with younglings. And this year, my husband (other Disney character) Ariel is far enough along in his hard earned education that he finally wants me to do it. The collision of all these things puts me into a place where homeschooling is fully supported by both responsible adults living on the premise and makes sense. Not having to send my kids to wear masks for 7 hours a day, or contributing to negative factors of large groups of people gathering during a pandemic is just an added bonus of fulfilling my dreams. 

So without further adieu, and before my family wakes up and realizes I am not in bed: What do we do, when nothing is to be done? We do nothing and we just keep swimming. 

Palenquito

Original Post from October 2018

The Holding Post is our sanctuary. It is where we contemplate and plan and make the future of our family. As the cold breathes it's chill on my home and surrounding trees, transforming their vibrancy into brown leaves.  Their roots finishing off their storage of starches and next years buds with every days sunlight growing shorter and shorter.

I wonder nostalgically for the life that has left and contemplate the future of this plot of ground. We've taken from the ground: toys, many hundred shards of bricks, rotted wood, door handles, drawer pulls, hooks, pulleys, rusted rails that once closed irrigation trenches... All small pieces of the history of our home, the people who lived here. We've found photos of the original inhabitants and seen the glory of the home's history in the garden and leaves climbing up intricate but humble woodwork of the late Victorian Pioneer home.

Now the bricks are falling from the front window sill and the paint still keeps markings from nests of wasps and swallows as a memory of transformative life. We slowly erase the signs of neglect and wildness taking over in the form of unpruned branches still giving apples, though smallish and late. We collect the brick shards and rusted metal machinery. We've tilled the ground where dolls shoes and boys shoes were buried and made tiny holes for beet seeds and onion seeds. Tomatoes have risen up in place of thistles and wild licorice weed.

All the findings are sorted. Doll shoes and boy shoes give us a smile as we toss them in a pile to be lifted by children doing chores into trash bins.  Metal pieces and anything that has withstood the test of many years thrashing rains and wailing winds, go into a pile for me. I make the future of this ground, the face of it. What I want to present it and what I want it to mean and I'll do it in the form of sculpture. Show history in found objects. Everything now takes the form of what will be; the planning, the ideals, the sanctuary...at least in our minds. I consider the future of what was and what we are as a family.

The Holding Post. El Palenquito. A place to tie up your horse and take refuge.

Our family is mixed. We bring to this area of Sanpete county the blue blooded soulfulness my cattle ranching grandfather left me from 20 miles south. We mix it with the warmth of my husband's South American culture, food, language. We teach our children where they came from. Every time we see the old home my great, great  grandparents built, we show them it was built of the same stone cut from the mountain East of town. We teach them in the photo of the couple standing on the porch of our home over 120 years ago, hanging in the entryway. We wonder if they crossed paths with my own great great grandfather. To bring in the culture of Argentina we use the language, though sometimes it might as well be ancient Greek. We name our great adventure Palenquito to bring something my husband and I both love to a place that means forever to us.

This might be our manifesto, but I'm too shy to be so bold. As I unearth yet more toys and machined metal parts, I'm discovering that what I really need in this place, is a place to belong. I'm learning how to let myself belong in each section I till and smooth over. I feel safe. I no longer have nightmares about roads or rivers or wild animals, and I hope that a sense of belonging will come in time because I really, really love the life I'm living in this Palenquito.

Tools of belonging

I am in need of an outlet for words. A way to clarify and find my way. Words do that for me sometimes. Tonight, a few minutes ago, I tried to go to bed. I started thinking about my grandpas tools, because my Dad gave some tools to us the other day and some of them were my grandpa Jack's. I remember asking my grandpa for help once cutting the table legs shorter for a table that Ariel and I had bought. I worried that I would regret cutting the table short, because I really liked the idea of a high table. I never looked back, practically. It was too hard to find comfortable chairs for a high table. My grandpa took Ariel and I out in his garage and I remember my fascination with his tools. he gave Ariel a sander once and some other random tools. I know that I have always been fascinated by things that other people might consider unimportant. But I know my grandpa considered tools important and so do I. So I keep that sander like a priceless relic, even though my Dad later gave me another just like it, which my grandpa had given him, so apparently my grandpa had a ton of them because he collected things which he deemed valuable. Who knows how many more red Craftsman hand sanders he had. One of the most useful tools I've ever owned...

As I lay thinking about sleep, and my grandpas tools, thinking about how some people are willing to impart knowledge and how my grandpa probably had no idea how I regarded his tools and his expert use of them. The memory of being with him as he expertly cut my table legs shorter, explaining why the angle and which side it should be laid on to get the right floor contact and leveling, thinking maybe I should have been inside talking to my grandma Helen, but remembering how I really just wanted see how my grandpa would accomplish the task, I was flooded with the sensation of belonging. Even though my grandparents came from a different generation and women being in love with tools wasn't something they could related to, I felt their home was a place where I belonged. Laying in my bed I felt a sense of belonging and an acute loss of people that in reality, I lost years ago. For Helen it's been 10, for Jack it's been 3; but they are a part of me and I miss them. They appreciated me. And I felt like I belonged. I recognize that it might be helpful for me to write a list of things that make me feel that comfortable, reassuring belonging that I am in need of. And maybe, it just might be time to send my words out into the webwaves.