Scope for Imagination

Isn't it splendid to think of all the things there are to find out about? It just makes me feel glad to be alive--it's such an interesting world. It wouldn't be half so interesting if we knew all about everything, would it? There'd be no scope for imagination then, would there?

-Anne of Green Gables, L.M. Montgomery

Monday, June 22, 2009

Summer is here!

It's official...first day of summer,
And last Sunday was our final Big Room class for the year.
But no worries, Sylvia, David, and others will have activities on the playground for summer Sundays. "Box City," circus skills, and ice cream making come to mind.

Our So Cal seasons may not resemble the New England pattern but we do have them.

(I remember as a kid doing a quiz on seasons, and getting my Social Studies workbook answers all marked wrong. Here's what I knew:
Rain comes in winter, obviously,
followed by spring with tons of flowers, because by summer all the flowers except tough old zinnias had fried up.
We flew our kites in the summer at the beach where you could count on a steady sea breeze.
Snow...that was funny...we knew of snow falling in winter in cold places.
Snow was an ornamental conceit at our school, though. A design to be cut from a six layer folded triangle of construction paper. Later sprinkled with glitter and hung as a Christmas decoration.
My teacher had come from Wisconsin, and had not taken notice of our true seasons.)

In So Cal we have Rain, followed by Mud. then comes Spring with poppies and blue eyes blooming and everything smells green and sage-y. And then it gets hot and Dry and it's best to get to the beach. Followed by Fire season, which we hope will be brief. And we hope that Rain will come in good time, not too much...not too little. This is a perfectly understandable rhythm of seasons.

Here is my fav poem to prepare for the Beach Season:

maggie and milly and molly and may
went down to the beach (to play one day)

and maggie discovered a shell that sang
so sweetly she couldn't remember her troubles, and

milly befriended a stranded star
whose rays five languid fingers were;

and molly was chased by a horrible thing
which raced sideways while blowing bubbles: and

may came home with a smooth round stone
as small as a world and as large as alone.

For whatever we lose (like a you or a me)
it's always ourselves we find in the sea

--e.e. cummings

May you all lose yourselves and find yourselves,
and your own adventure at the sea this summer...(Hopefully not the "horrible thing" adventure like molly's!)

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