Summer reading, and more

Today Calvin signed himself up for the summer reading program at our library. The idea is to get (keep?) kids reading over the summer, so they get prizes each time they meet their own weekly goals and are entered in an end of the summer drawing as well. Even though there is a "read to me" component we've never participated before. I don't go in for goal or reward oriented reading (says the girl with the goal of reading a book a week over the course of the year); reading is a natural part of our day, and Calvin reads plenty without enticement, outside of the pure enjoyment he gains from doing so. But this year Calvin is reading to himself and after reading the brochure he asked me about the program. I explained to him why we'd never participated before and gave him the choice of doing so now, as long as, if he chose to join in, he met his own goals all summer.

He signed up for the big kids program, the "read to myself" program. He filled the form out by himself and chose to set a goal of four completely new books each week, which, as he explained to me almost word for word, "is not very many, but will leave me time to read my old favorites and maybe a "long long chapter book, like the next Oz." I will make him a book log to keep at home, and each week he will fill out the log the library has for him under his name. And maybe I'm mistaken, or maybe it's just the right time, because I can see this being a decent thing. Having to keep the list might get him thinking more about the books and their authors, and about comparing them, too. And since he is a natural reader now, I doubt the introduction of rewards will ruin our natural flow.

And so we were at the library today, and before that this morning was the start of Calvin's two week long summer swim class, which means lessons at nine in the morning, every morning, all week, for two weeks. We're always up well before then, but we're not usually out of the house by the then, or presentable (because I often get up and go running, which is out of the house, but I'm not exactly presentable afterwards). The bright side? Just think of all the things we can accomplish this way. And today was a math day, and a checking on the bacteria we're growing petri dishes day, and a bird watching, reading, and piano day. Pretty much a run-of-the-mill day you could say.

Swan family in our neighborhood! I would have liked better pictures of these guys but it was just before bedtime that they came wandering through so it was dark, and we respectfully kept our distance. I'm hoping we'll see them again, though.

Getting up and doing

Most of our days start exactly the same way—with some quiet reading while we slowly wake up to the day's possibilities. I vaguely remember days, before Calvin was born, when waking up on a weekday morning meant rushing to get to get to work where I spent most of my time doing what needed to be done, then getting home in time to eat and retire for the night. Waking up in the morning to a day that can hold almost anything our hearts desire is a new and rather expansive feeling for me. What can we do? Almost anything! But the other side of that coin is that it is surprisingly easy to end up doing almost nothing. I (and now Calvin also) can get too lost in a book that we start in the morning and end up spending most of the day there. At the end of days like that, even being the book lovers that we are, I feel like we have failed to use our time well.  With all the rainy, dreary weather that we've been treated to this spring we've had more days like that than I care to count.

But maybe those days have their place, too. Activity in waves. We've spent much of the past couple of weeks (when we weren't on vacation) lost in books, our imaginations wending their way through other places and times, then today the sun came out and our energy to get up and do came with it, and so, after our usual morning, we got up and did. And it turns out that the things we've been reading make their way into the things we are doing, and vice versa. Plus, after so many languorous days we were ready for a busy one or two, and then again we'll be ready to recline in repose.

Today we played volcano games on the iPad, we made Roman face pots (an activity from our ancient Rome explorations), we played Qwirkle, we watched birds and Calvin wrote in his journal about them.

Qwirkle on the back deck, where we could watch the birds in our birch.

And at the end of the day we're still reading while we watch for our bird friends out the front window.

Post vacation ennui

Whenever I finish a book I feel lost, like I'm dangling in space. It's as though an ending has arrived too soon, and it's not until I've connected, really connected, to the next book that I begin to feel found again. Or sometimes, after a particularly good book, I wait a little while before I start another, still tasting and basking in the glow of the now lost world before moving on to the next. Events can be much the same way so when we got back from vacation I was kind of hanging in space, waiting for my wheels to catch on the road to the next thing. I am feeling a little lost. I guess the next big event will be Calvin's birthday in June, or maybe Memorial Day.

In the meantime at least the laundry is getting done and the house put back out of order, because an overly orderly house with a child is about as depressing as the sterile nature of a hospital. Calvin is helping to liven things up by getting out every Lego we own, plus felt, and books, and crayons. It's an improvment. This afternoon he assembled my old medieval castle, then dove into his books to find out what castles in ancient Roman times would have looked like. Perhaps we'll try to design and build one of those next.

And after too many missed opportunities I've taken to leaving the camera by the front window when we are home, big lens attached. And look who we happened to spy today (plus the hummingbird came and sampled from both her own feeder, and the oriole's).

Tomorrow we go to the store to get more oranges for our newest denizen, and we'll go for a walk, we'll read, we'll find the energy for crafts. We can't give into this ennui forever.

Monday, in 100 words

Some years from now I'll be scrolling back through old-ish photos and I will come across April shots of snowy cardinals in my garden and think they've been misfiled since that really can't be mid-April, can it? Of course, if I look back a year I might be equally surprised to see pictures of tulips fully emerged even a week earlier, and us frolicking through fields of green littered with bright yellow dandelions. Then I'll remember that we live in unpredictable Michigan. We spent this spring day inside with trains, books, piano, birds to watch, piano, games, and each other.