Category: Summer Reading

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Dahlias: Elegance and Dignity


No idle wish

To rival her compeers;

Of her own passing loveliness, e’er stirs

Her tranquil soul.  She brightly shines

Amid the lesser lights that round her beam,

Eclipsing all with her effulgent rays.

–MRS. CUSHING

This will be an unusual post from me, and since I am no photographer, and not a highly skilled gardener either, the results will be questionable!  But I had to share my joy with all of my readers as I have recently begun a new love affair.  No, I’m still happily married to my darling husband Russ, but in May I began a quest for dahlias.  This was in view of my dear son Josh’s upcoming wedding, as the reception was to be held in our backyard.  His lovely fiancée Grace, had decided upon an unusual color–hot chocolate roses, with which I wanted to try to coordinate the garden flower beds.  So dahlia’s seemed the logical choice to give some whimsy and vibrant color to the event.  I ordered 25 different varieties in the red and coral genre and planted away.  When the tubers arrived, I was struck by the unpromising (and downright hideous) aspect of a dahlia tuber as it stands in remarkable contrast to what its unassuming seed state portends.  Brown, shriveled and humble, this tuber has something to say about the nature of transformation.

And transform they did!  The glorious color, variety, and shapes of dahlias astound and thrill me every time I return to the garden to fertilize, trim and deadhead.  Not to say that getting them to this point didn’t take heroic efforts.  It did.  I have gone from being an organically green fundamentalist to a free-wheeling chemical and pesticide nazi.  I mean all of this figuratively, of course.  While I have always maintained a strict pesticide and chemical free garden ethos, my dahlias forced me into denying everything I have hitherto maintained about being green.  Dahlias are high maintenance flowers and at least this summer (which was unusually cool on the central coast of California), are subject to every pest and disease known to the botanical world.  So I sprayed, fertilized, dusted, and sprayed some more.  I did seriously doubt my own sanity when I found myself on successive mornings literally scrubbing powdery mildew off of my dahlia leaves with a toothbrush.  Oh, the lengths we (well, I ) will go to have a nice garden for a wedding!  But now, my hard work is paying off and so I am delighted to share some dahlia pictures I took this morning.  By the way, the wedding was beautiful and the dahlias were eclipsed into the background of all the other lovelinesses, especially the bride herself!

Finally, since this is in reality a blog devoted to children’s literature, I must have a tie-in to some aspect of children’s lit.  So, I’m happy to share that Monet too, loved dahlias and Renoir painted Monet in his garden painting dahlias.  Here it is!  Which brings to mind that there is a wonderful children’s book on the topic of Monet’s garden entitled Linnea in Monet’s Garden.  Check it out!


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Developing New Educational Paradigms

Dear Readers,
My daughter Rebecca recently sent me the following link regarding how educational paradigms are being challenged across the globe.  This is due to countless factors, but for those who have chosen to depart from institutionalized education, to create their own educational experience, I think you’ll find this talk by Sir Ken Robinson inspiring, challenging, and motivational.  Robinson is the author of Out of Our Minds: Learning to be Creative, which is on my book list for summer reading. His talk on new educational paradigms seems timely for me personally, as I have determined to devote this summer to a neglected pursuit of the arts in our home.  I intend to intentionally pursue music, drawing, art history, and literature in a new and fresh way.  Robinson’s presentation has further convinced me of the importance of the arts and I think you’ll see why.  One thing he notes is that children are being anesthetized in unprecedented numbers through the overuse of Ritalin; this presumably to enable them “to learn.”  But Robinson notes that the opposite of anesthetization is aesthetic experience.  This occurs through the arts (and even through science and math) when the human faculties are totally engaged, “senses are operating at their peak  . . . when you’re resonating with the excitement of the thing you’re experiencing . . . when you’re fully alive.” This is what art, drama, music, and literature can do for us, and should do for us.  So by way of encouragement, consider how you might devote this summer to a pursuit of the kinds of engagement that Robinson advocates here.  Remember that the parts of the brain  developed through engagement with the arts, can eventually help to build the capacity for those lagging academic connections.  And even if that were not true, the emotional and spiritual connection provided by  times of renewal, reflection, and refreshment through art, will be a beautiful end in and of itself.  Here is the link.  Let me know what you think!

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Summer of the Monkeys

While summer is so stealthily slipping away, I had to do yet one more summer read to encourage you to maybe slip this one in just before the last warm days of sun, surf, and sand are gone!  This title is not as widely known as Wilson Rawls’ other beloved classic, Where the Red Fern Grows, but ranks as one of our family’s fondest read-aloud moments, which if you’ve been following this post, you’ll find are not so rare. But honestly, Summer of the Monkeys would definitely rank in the top ten (if you pressed me to list the top ten, which I hope you won’t!).

The beauty of Summer of the Monkeys lies in the novel’s humor mixed with the tender pathos of a coming-of-age story about young Jay Berry, who is crazy nuts about horses and can think of nothing but the ability to one day buy his very own.  When a circus train collides with a railroad car near his Ozark home, a number of performing monkeys escape and resume life in the wild.  The circus owners offer a reward to capture and return them to the circus and Jay Berry has his opportunity to earn the money that will make his equine dream come true.  Jay’s raucous adventures with the irascible monkeys makes an entertaining family read-aloud and the heartwarming and inspiring ending had each of us choked up enough that we were having to keep passing the book from one to another in order to get through it!  In a day when our children suffer little from wrenching poverty, and seldom have to be truly sacrificial in their daily lives, Jay Berry’s example becomes a poignant lesson about what is truly important in life.  If you’ve read this beautifully crafted and heartfelt tale post a comment and tell us how your family responded!

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The Wreck of the Zephyr and Madeline

Our youngest daughter recently had a friend for a summer sleep over and before I tucked the two little ones into bed (knowing it would probably be some time before they actually slept) I read them some family favorites hoping to encourage some sleepiness.  One of my all time best loved children’s books is The Wreck of the Zephyr by Chris VanAllsburg.  While VanAllsburg is most popularly know for The Polar Express, it is my humble opinion that his previous works surpass his Christmas tale in both substance and artistic richness.  If you’ve never read this gem, check it out of the library soon, or find a used copy online.  The artwork alone is stunning, and the story is subtle and clever for the close reader.  It involves a young aspiring sailor (in a gorgeous, but simple New England seaside town) who has quite an amazing adventure which I won’t spoil for you.  The other VanAllsburg title that we’ve loved forever is Jumanji.  Both these stories have great twists at the end that will intrigue the young reader.

We also pulled out Madeline, as our little friend had never heard of the precocious French orphan who has captured the hearts of little girls for over half a century! Each book of the series begins with, “In an old house in Paris, that was covered with vines, lived twelve little girls in two straight lines . . . the smallest one was Madeline.” The author, Ludwig Bemelmans had a life as colorful as his protagonist, and incidentally, his wife’s name was Madeleine.  Madeline’s Rescue, the second book in the series won the Caldecott Medal in 1954.  For those who live near New York City or visit it regularly, one of the city’s most famous hotels, The Carlyle has a mural painted by Bemelmans in its Bemelman’s Bar.  It is the artists seasonal depiction of New York’s Central Park and includes the characters from his delightful stories.  Fortunately, when the hotel was planning to remodel and forever lose Bemelman’s work, it was Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis that came to the rescue of this delightful work of art.

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Lemon Meringue Pie, Man of the Family, musings . . .

I told you we were reading the Little Britches series with our girls for summer reading.  We are currently reading Man of the Family and last night was the chapter, “We Really Spill the Beans.”  We had just had an incident at dinner with a broken dish due to a lackadaisical attitude and then a refusal to take responsibility.  Little did we know what a good chapter our nightly reading would be to carry home a life lesson for all of us!  For those unfamiliar with the story, Ma has started a cooking business in order to support the family.  The family depends greatly on the income they can make selling Ma’s home baked apple pies, lemon meringue pies, doughnuts, bean pots and Injun pudding. Ralph (Little Britches) then delivers (on a rickety homemade handcart) his mother’s wonders to the neighbors who’ve placed orders.  During one of Colorado’s hottest summers on record Ma and Grace have spent over 48 hours straight, cooking over a hot wood stove a total of 26 lemon pies, 22 dozen doughnuts, 16 apple pies, brown bread, beans, and 4 pots of Injun pudding. Ralph, Grace, and Philip set out to deliver the valuable labor intensive goods to their neighbors (I’m remembering the time it took me four hours to make 2 lemon meringue pies!).  Unfortunately, due to a rickety wagon, not fit to carry such a load, “that load went over in such a way that it spilled every single thing on the wagon–about half of it on Grace and me.” The destruction is complete.  The beauty of the story is Ralph’s quick and noble willingness to take responsibility for the accident, “I know it’s all my fault, [he] said.  If I’d had sense enough to soak the wheels, it wouldn’t have happened.”  His humility is startling and refreshing and begins an outflow of grace that is so sweet and clear. Ralph recalls,

“I don’t know when I ever hated to do anything as badly as I hated to go home and tell Mother what had happened to the cookery.” “She must have seen my face the minute I came through the door, “What’s the matter Son? Did the wagon break down?” she said.  She wasn’t cross, and she said it as quietly as she’d have said, “Is it cloudy?”  “I don’t think I’d have cried if she’d been cross, but to have her be so gentle when I felt so bad was what did it.  I don’t remember kneeling down by her, but I do remember her brushing my hair back with her hand and saying, “Now, now Son.”

Well, I got quite choked up reading this and once again, my kids were puzzled by my tears.  “Mom, it’s just food!  For heaven’s sake!”  Well, you and I know it’s much bigger than that, but some understandings only come with time and maturity.

The story convicts me on a number of levels.  Ma’s gracious reaction is humbling, convicting and inspiring.  How much I long to be more like her that way!  Especially when it comes to broken dishes!  How unimportant the dish, how fragile the little psyche that we damage by our anger!  The other part I find convicting is the way in which Ma and Pa parented to inspire such honesty and quick willingness to take responsibility for their actions.  It reminds me of a time my very young nephew Greg broke a riding toy, ran into our house immediately and proclaimed, “Mom, I broke the buggy (remember those riding toys that looked like little VWs?), it’s all my fault.” How sweet the grace that follows the quick willingness to take ownership of our own brokenness and propensity to error.  We all need it, and so we all need to learn to give it freely and without hesitation. “I do not at all understand the mystery of grace–only that it meets us where we are but does not leave us where it found us.”–Anne Lamott