Gentlewood Cottage

Cheerfulness is a Beauty which every body admires. A cheerful spirit is a continual feast. It smiles its way through life. It wins crowns for its possessor. It makes and gives happiness. All sunshine and flowers is a cheerful heart. It shines in perpetual spring. Its birds are ever singing, and its joys ever new.

From a text entitled Aims and Aids for Girls and Young Women, written in 1856 by George Sumner Weaver

We’ve been cooped up for so long now, with the flu, and all this rain. When we went outside this afternoon to hang laundry, I forced both girls to join me, though they were very skeptical of this warm bright stuff filling the air and sky.

Once outside, the girls blinked and looked around like cave dwelling critters. They slowly began to adapt though, and managed to have a fine time after all.

Kinsley found some columbine, and brought Sophie a fist full, instructing her that “this is good to eat.”

I spotted this in the stump of a tree which Dan cut down last fall.

…The bed-room should be capacious and well ventilated; fresh air frequently admitted; and if the season of the year permit, and there is no dampness of atmosphere, a window should be constantly open during the day…

From The Maternal Management of Children, in Health and Disease written by Thomas Bull, M.D in 1840

We seem to have acquired a nasty stomach bug, and it is clinging to us for dear life. The girls and I have been sick since last Wednesday with various amounts of fever, vomiting, and diarrhea. We finally seem to be beginning to mend, and are enjoying some sunshine and light exercise today as part of our therapy.

Thankfully Dan was able to spend some time at home, assisting with the illness, and cleaning up the results of the illness.

This statuette stood out to me when we visited the Art Museum for Dan’s birthday. It was entitled, simply, “Charity”. It struck me especially because the example of Charity in this case was a mother with two small children, and I immediately felt empathy with the statue. Then I thought again about the whole idea of allure and how it actually relates to the character of Charity, in that both require true self sacrifice.

In other words, in order to be a queen, I must simply embrace what God has given me to do, with the Spirit of Christ ruling my actions.

In WHAT’S WRONG WITH THE WORLD, G.K. Chesterton paints a vivid picture of the importance of the mother’s role:

“Our old analogy of the fire remains the most workable one.
The fire need not blaze like electricity nor boil like boiling water;
its point is that it blazes more than water and warms more than light.
The wife is like the fire, or to put things in their proper proportion,
the fire is like the wife. Like the fire, the woman is expected
to cook: not to excel in cooking, but to cook; to cook better
than her husband who is earning the coke by lecturing on botany
or breaking stones. Like the fire, the woman is expected to tell
tales to the children, not original and artistic tales, but tales–
better tales than would probably be told by a first-class cook.
Like the fire, the woman is expected to illuminate and ventilate,
not by the most startling revelations or the wildest winds of thought,
but better than a man can do it after breaking stones or lecturing.
But she cannot be expected to endure anything like this universal
duty if she is also to endure the direct cruelty of competitive or
bureaucratic toil. Woman must be a cook, but not a competitive cook;
a school mistress, but not a competitive schoolmistress;
a house-decorator but not a competitive house-decorator; a dressmaker,
but not a competitive dressmaker. She should have not one trade but
twenty hobbies; she, unlike the man, may develop all her second bests.
This is what has been really aimed at from the first in what
is called the seclusion, or even the oppression, of women.
Women were not kept at home in order to keep them narrow;
on the contrary, they were kept at home in order to keep them broad.
The world outside the home was one mass of narrowness,
a maze of cramped paths, a madhouse of monomaniacs.
It was only by partly limiting and protecting the woman that she
was enabled to play at five or six professions and so come almost
as near to God as the child when he plays at a hundred trades.
But the woman’s professions, unlike the child’s, were all truly
and almost terribly fruitful;…

…it is not difficult to see… why the female became the emblem
of the universal and the male of the special and superior.
Two gigantic facts of nature fixed it thus: first, that the woman
who frequently fulfilled her functions literally could not be
specially prominent in experiment and adventure; and second,
that the same natural operation surrounded her with very young children,
who require to be taught not so much anything as everything.
Babies need not to be taught a trade, but to be introduced to a world.
To put the matter shortly, woman is generally shut up in a house
with a human being at the time when he asks all the questions
that there are, and some that there aren’t. It would be odd
if she retained any of the narrowness of a specialist.
“

Charity, as defined by Webster:

1:
1. Love; universal benevolence; good will. 2: 4. Whatever is bestowed gratuitously on the needy or suffering for their relief; … any act of kindness.

With that, Happy Mother’s day! May you take joy in the sphere with which God has blessed you.

I have been very fascinated by these little flowers (or weeds?) this spring. I seem to be obsessed with photographing them, and both girls have a new appreciation for them.

I have heard that the dandelion is supposed to be a good measuring device for all sorts of things.

Weather:

“The dandelion is an excellent barometer, one of the commonest and most reliable. It is when the blooms have seeded and are in the fluffy, feathery condition that its weather prophet facilities come to the fore. In fine weather the ball extends to the full, but when rain approaches, it shuts like an umbrella. If the weather is inclined to be showery it keeps shut all the time, only opening when the danger from the wet is past.” Says “Camping For Boys” by H.W. Gibson

The time:

“The dandelion is called the rustic oracle; its flowers always open about 5 A.M. and shut at 8 P.M., serving the shepherd for a clock.” “The Child and Childhood in Folk-Thought” by Alexander F. Chamberlain

And, last but not least, Love:

It’s said that if you can blow all the seeds off with one blow, then you are loved with a passionate love. If some seeds remain, then your lover has reservations about the relationship. If a lot of the seeds still remain on the globe, then you are not loved at all, or very little. Source: “Unusual Vegetables, Something New for this Year’s Garden,” Rodale Press Emmaus, PA.

Maybe I need to make something of this obsession. Have you ever made dandelion wine? I’m considering this recipe.

“Dear common flower, that grow’st beside the way,
Fringing the dusty road with harmless gold,
First pledge of blithesome May.”
~ Ellen Mackay Hutchinson Cortissoz

Sophie has a tongue which is about four inches long. We’re not sure what to do about it. She’s not sure what to do with it. It doesn’t seem to stay in her mouth.

Kinsley seems to be having issues with her tongue as well.

They come by it honestly. Their Papa sticks his tongue out when he concentrates. Their Mama was once a flower girl at a wedding and hung her tongue out of her mouth the entire time.

It was sort of a second (or third) celebration of Dan’s birthday. We settled ourselves into the backyard for some watermelon and observation.

Sophie seemed to prefer the green stuff on the bottom of the rind.

Kinsley noticed that the melon was the same color as her new shoes.

For the first part of the celebration of Dan’s birthday, we left the daughters at my parents house and took a mini vacation to Saint Louis. This was our first outing (alone) since last year on our anniversary.

We toured the art museum, and came away with enough thoughts to last a lifetime. Maybe I’ll try to share some of our impressions later on.

After the art museum, we went to dinner at Modesto, a tapas resturaunt which we have been wanting to try for three years.

The atmosphere was very pleasant.

It was quiet, and the waiters displayed just the right amount of attentiveness. We never had to wait for anything, but they didn’t hover too much, either.

The food was spectacular. The calamari was the best I’ve ever eaten.

The bread came with an olive dip that was wonderful.

And the chorizo…mmm…

All in all, we both agree that this may be the best restaurant we have ever eaten at.

After that, we walked to a nearby coffee shop. Which was one of the best coffee shops we’ve ever been to.

We sat in the warm evening sunshine and actually visited over our coffee. It was an amazing sensation. We giggled. And took photos of each other like silly newly weds.

We agreed that we missed the girls. Then, we went home and gathered up our precious daughters.

Phase two of the birthday celebrations to come tomorrow…

To the world’s best Papa and husband - the light of our lives! Happy Birthday to the man who penned these words, five years ago:

I long to hold you all through the night, and watch you sleeping next to me as I thank God again and again for you, and pray for you. I long to cuddle with you, and watch sunsets, and full moons, and fingernail moons, and snow fall, and storms, and breakers, and fall colors, and who can tell what else. I long to work with you, my helpmeet, on all the good work the Lord has for us.

I will never be able to get enough of you, my darling. You are much more than a dream come true. No one but our loving, knowing Lord can know how much you amaze me, and how much you have my heart! May God make you fulfilled, satisfied, happy and fruitful in these revived, happy arms, by His grace.”

All of our dreams continue to come true! God has blessed me with the most wonderful man and two lovely daughters.

So I thank God for the birth of my husband, and I look forward with hope to the many years we will have together, enjoying His creation, and participating in His Life.

Today we met with a few other homeschooling families at the park for the first picnic of the season (for us, anyway). I thought the girls were unusually charming today, and couldn’t stop taking photos.

Kinsley thought the idea of sliding sounded really fun, but couldn’t actually bring herself to go down the slide. “Mama!” she called to me, “Do you think I will conk my head?”. As her Uncle Eric would say, so many phobias, so little time…

Sophie tried to play it cool.

In reality she reminded me of Mr. Wilson from Dennis the Menace.

Silas gave Kinsley some sort of weapon and instructed her on the art of sword fighting.

Which seemed to bore Sophie immensely.

The line down Kinsley’s face is the result of a run-in she had with Frances, involving the door frame. Oddly enough, that wound hasn’t been nearly the trauma as the skinned knee. I think it has to do with the fact that she can’t see the scratch on her face, where as she can look at the scratch on her knee whenever she feels like it. Poor little thing.

All in all, I think they had a great time. They both crashed as soon as we got home.