Rhythm, Surprises and Tiny.

It takes extra special effort to keep active, see friends and be present in the real world in the depths of winter. It's so easy to be swept along by the cocooning, short and fire-filled days. The desire to draw inward and snuggle by the fire and read a book can see days roll into weeks. The need to see friends can in some ways be met through social media, while owlets can choose spend hours with their friends on Minecraft, on days where venturing out seems all too hard. It's like having little portals to view the outside world, from the comfort of our couch. Regular jobs drag us along in a rhythm of bare essentials before we retreat. Before long, 4.30pm rolls around and the sun sinks as we stoke the fire and proclaim the day done. By midwinter, it takes extra motivation to break out of that cosy rut. Something special to get us rolling along again. Our three motivations each day are rhythm, surprises, and Tiny.



By 6am most mornings, Tiny is usually nudging me out of bed. "I'm hungry", she whispers, and we slip down the hallway to switch on the lights, feed the meowing cats and turn the heater on. Then we fold the clothes on the rack and chat about things while we decide what to have for breakfast. Tiny is like a tiger and when she's hungry or not engaged in an activity, she roars. Breakfast and lots of things to do are a priority. She's at that magical age where the world is opening up to her and she's full of awe and wonder. But on these winter days, it's so easy for me to get swept along with what needs doing, so the balance can shift and we forget to pause and play.



Owlets love surprises, so we like to mix things up with last minute day trips and thoughtful things. This week, I made Tiny a seasonal table, in a space we created a couple of weeks ago during a furniture re-shuffle. It's been such a long time since I paused to create something to draw her attention and she adored it. The magic of soft candle light, gentle colours and delicate things to admire and play with. It was like pressing the reset button on our winter, while giving her my full attention for a moment. Sometimes that connection with one owlet is enough to have all of us working together more harmoniously again.




Tiny and I have been sparkly snowflake making, reading Snowflake Bentley, face painting, having scones for lunch, building with clay, playing sleeping queens and chess, watching the sun rise on the beach… The two bigger owlets have been inspired to join in too, so our days have had a revived hum to them. I've been more present, which has been fun and tiring and so wonderful, as we all restore a little bit of balance and unfurl a bit. Sorry shop, sorry blog, sorry house, sorry knitting, sorry garden! There's fun to be had!

How are you coping with winter? Is it super cold where you are right now? 
Do you have a way to reset and get your week back on track? 
Do you have a seasonal table set up? 
What works for you? 

~ Lauren xx

Our tree...

We've been meeting with friends at our co-op for almost three years now. In that time, much of the play  has been witnessed, supported and shaded by the branches of one very large and beautiful willow tree. Big Owlet and I had known the tree since her playgroup days in the big hall, when she was Tiny's age. She'd stand underneath and marvel at the shadows and light filtering through the leaves.

Since we began holding our Hobart Natural Learners Co-op meets in the playground, friendships have been forged, fought over and strengthened under that tree. The children learnt to co-operate and problem solve tying a rope swing on its branches. They climbed the larger branches gleefully, facing fears and observing nature around them. We've woven willow crowns and fashioned brooms and horse reigns from it's smalls branches. We've escaped the scorching Tasmanian summer sun and sheltered from light rain under that majestic tree.

Since she was a baby, Tiny has sat in the swing underneath, asking me to push her "higher and higher!" until her bare toes touched the leaves above… We've loved that tree. A beautiful regular fixture in our weeks.

So you can imagine our shock last week when…



This happened.

The owlets immediately flew into hysterics and tears, greatly distressed at the loss of their tree. I must admit, I did too… We called Huz and asked him to contact the council to find out what was going on. He was put through to the head maintenance worker (let's call him gardening guy), who explained the situation to him and then marched over to us to explain further.

We were spoken to quite defensively and told "Shade sails are better than trees in children's playgrounds", and "Kids can climb trees in their own backyards". "What if you don't have a climbing tree in your backyard?" I asked. "Not my problem", said gardening guy. He also mentioned (I suspect it slipped out), that it was most likely a "financial matter" as "pruning the tree regularly to cut the branches is more expensive than pollarding." Uh huh. And therein lies the truth.

When we questioned the severity of the pruning, we were asked "Oh you're an arborist are you?" Not the most sensitive approach towards a group of people who were very clearly shaken and grieving. We were also told it'll grow back again, in a few years. Yeah.

It seemed to us that there was more to the story than a small amount of rot at the top of a couple of branches, despite the pictures we were shown of the tree before. Research tells us that pollarding perhaps isn't the best course of action for an old willow tree like this. It will shoot from the top, providing a light canopy in a few years time.

But the tree will never be climbable again, removing a potential liability risk for council, certainly. The look of recognition on the children's faces as they counted 35 rings on what was once their favourite climbing branch... They knew they'd never climb it again… "I'll bring my children here and they can climb it", said Big Owlet. I didn't have the heart to tell her that'll never happen.

The tree will be more susceptible to decay and disease now. Pollarding it will grow a smaller, light, maintainable canopy at the top, which will weep down if the council let it, but they'll not let any lower branches remain, as confirmed by gardening guy. And tiny toes will never reach for those leaves from the swing ever again.

The beautiful children who play in the playground every week, our gang, have felt a great sense of loss.  The playground is so stark now. It's beauty is lost forever. They picked flowers and branches (to stick into the tree in hopes they'd re-sprout) and drew pictures and left them for the tree before we headed off down the road for a fungi walk. When we returned an hour later, all of the gifts had been removed. We suspect  gardening guy was responsible for this too. Way to add to the grief of a bunch of small children, gardening guy…

The next morning, Little Owlet told me she woke up happy, and then she remembered. Our tree. Oh.

So we're feeling a spot of guerrilla gardening might be in order. Or yarn bombing. Or something that will honour our beautiful tree (and perhaps tick gardening guy off just a little). And make us feel a little less wobbly about being there now. And I'm considering exploring the realm of landscape design again, to provide access to natural play spaces for all. Watch this space…

Have you ever lost a tree you loved? 
What is the worth of a tree that provides shade and play for generations of people living in a neighbourhood, do you think? Should it outweigh maintenance budgets?
Do you think children should be able to climb trees in public places? 

Much love. xx

Owlets at play...

This was that time where a rather large box of gorgeousness arrived and part of it was snabbled up by our owlets before I could blink. And then they played and played and played…

I'm writing about it over on the Spiral Garden blog today. Won't you stop by? xx

snow day...

It was all Tiny's idea...





So full of delight and inquisitiveness, her exuberance often leads the way, especially when it comes to sensory play. It would be so easy to step in and say no. But then you don't always want to quash that sense of fun and enquiry. Or endure the wrath when you ask them to stop... Toddlers. Sometimes it's easiest to just breathe and turn a blind eye...





Of course older sisters can be led astray. Exuberance is contagious. As are giggles...





And what begins as an impending sense of doom becomes a feeling of joy as they are led to play and it snowballs into the "best afternoon ever". One that we'll be cleaning up remembering for a very, very long time to come.

How does play look at your house? 
Do you breathe and turn a blind eye? 
Have any run-ins with polystyrene boxes lately?

xo

While the cat's away...

I've been away from our nest all week long. It's been amazing and a time of huge learning and expansion for all of us. More on that later, but for now, a little update on what the owlets have been up to with their lovely Papa. Photographer, owlet wrangler and my greatest supporter. Love him.













All photos by Huz. Find him on Instagram @berondi

{this moment}

{this moment} - A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember. Inspired by Soulemama.

unschool monday :: back to co-op

The past month has seen us back to building our community around us, the owlets and me. It's been a difficult, long learning journey. We've had lots of ups and downs with it in previous years, but managed to get through with some supportive, genuine mates who make the days and weeks full of colour and fun at our little homeschool co-op.



We look forward to the time to relax, play and share conversation and food among friends... nourishing in so many ways.



Tiny loves having the time to wander among the big kids, following their play and getting involved when she can. And the way they accept her as part of the gang... Actually, she doesn't give them much choice - haha!



This year our natural learners' co-op has moved from meeting fortnightly to weekly, meaning regular, familiar play and what feels like family building around us. The older children in the group tend to dictate the direction of play and what activities we participate in, while families bring along things that might be of interest... strewing their path, if you will ;)

Our group has gone from huge to tiny, and occasionally big, depending on whether we provide a workshop or not. People like the certainty of a planned activity and in those weeks, our numbers grow exponentially and people come and go at other times, keeping it interesting. For the most part, we plan not to plan too much, following the energy of the group and relying on members to suggest and organise things if the inspiration strikes. What we've learnt is that it requires effort to maintain a constant organised enthusiasm and regular organised workshops for the sake of attendance... It becomes overwhelming, for everyone, and unsustainable. Somehow it doesn't feel co-operative.

It also takes a bit to let go and get over the feeling that your type of community is not what everyone is after, when for you it is the best thing! Throwing your heart out there and welcoming people, friends and strangers, who then decide whether they fit, hoping they do... Somehow organised activities, entertainment and educational workshops take the pressure off people needing to examine whether your community is for them. It removes the responsibility of active participation and co-operation. Whether they want to muck in and be part of it all.

In groups, people assess whether there are enough children of the right age and sex, whether they'll be bored or shy, or challenged. The concept of a co-operative collective is challenging and people often miss the point that there's an opportunity, by contribution, to bring what they want to the group. That the group is as fulfilling, exciting and enriching as they want it to be.

Sometimes I've wondered if one of our teething issues might be because the concept of community and unschooling is not for everyone, and an unschooling co-op might be what this thing actually is... Sometimes I think this has been a de-schooling process for me. Learning to let go and relax. Sometimes I think that others might view the social structure of schools and same-age grouping as important for them -  a valid choice, but not so important for us... Sometimes I wonder if people persisted, the others they are looking for might join in too. Community grows from participation... Sometimes we've just scratched our heads and wondered at it... But right now, this easy go-with-the-flow attitude seems to be working and there's a strong growing bond among families who come weekly, or just when it feels right.




For us, the important part is the time spent together, getting to know one another. Mucking in and growing something slowly, organically, with hope and fun and enjoyment in mind.




Sometimes the weeks where nothing is planned at all, where we trust in the spontaneity and dynamics of a group of kids to dictate the days and the direction they follow, are the best. The easiest. The most organic and the ones where we all learn together. Discoveries are made, social structures are worked through, problems are solved and experiences are shared just by sharing a space and sharing our interests... Those days set the direction for the weeks to come and by trusting in the group that we are growing together, this learning journey, these unschooling days, become so full and nourishing. I'm excited for what's to come for our tiny group and hopeful that it continues to grow and flourish.

Are you part of a homeschooling/unschooling co-op?
Do you help run a group of people? Have you found it challenging?
Is community important to you?
How have you made it work?

Add your link below if you'd like to join in and linkup with unschool monday and reflect on your unschooling journey, or week or anything you fancy! xx

unschool monday :: numeracy learning happens here

One of the unexpected benefits of owning a home business... There's a room full of gorgeous things to save up for. And multiple things to count and sort into colour groups and divide and subtract. There are parcels to weigh and dates and times to ship and receive things... There are numbers everywhere, hidden behind the colours. Empty boxes pile up and owlets count them and measure and work out which shapes will work for their newest construction. And when they've saved all their money and counted it out, that doll they so desperately wanted is theirs. And the learning happens naturally, constantly, always.

If you feel like linking up with unschool monday this week, pop a link in the comments below. xx