In Search of Saturn in Earth's Shadow

We witnessed a lunar eclipse tonight. It was crisp, clear, the stars standing out of the bright sky. There is such a thing as a bright darkness; just combine a full moon with miles upon miles of ice-coated snow.

We watched the earth’s shadow drift across the pale moon. I tried taking some digital photos of it over the course of the evening. None are wonderful, but the event is documented for posterity. We got out the telescope and tried to see Saturn, a golden speck to the left of the shadowed satellite of Earth. I had hoped to see the rings. However, we never did quite get it all sorted out before the brilliant white sliver began crossing back onto the moon’s face. But we did look at some lunar craters.

By the time the light returned to the moon, it had moved farther south in our sky, and its position was changed relative to the earth's movement. Although the earth's shadow came across it from left to right, the moon "reappeared" starting at its bottom edge.

Click here for a large composite image of the eclipse phases we recorded on camera.

Here is another homeschooler who got some good shots of the moon in shadow.

The Fall Schedule

Do unschoolers schedule their learning? Why, yes. Having a schedule has not made our household anything like traditional school.

What it has done is created a tool that allows a shift-working Daddy to come home and know where we are in our day, even if it's at a different time than he came home yesterday. It also allows energetic, inquisitive children to know where they're supposed to be at, even when they're miles ahead of a worn-thin Mommy.

Our days this fall are divided into slots of varying length, mostly half-hours. Those half-hours are when everybody's got their own activity to keep them busy. Since there are four kids, there are four half-hours on the list. The kids rotate through music practice, typing practice, art and math.

The longer slots are family times. These include 45 minutes to work on our trip journal, an hour to read while folding laundry, and a variable amount of outdoor time in the afternoons.

The downside is that we're finding the allowances for housekeeping and meals aren't adequate. But, unless it's piano and dance lesson day, we just let the time slots flex to fit the kids. Not everything gets done every day, but something gets done every day. And that's what counts. Slow and steady wins the race.

Trip Journal

Today, we finally got around to journalling last year's trip. This is part of our prep for what we'll be doing this fall: finishing the rest of the Great Canadian Road Trip. Yes, folks, later this year, we will be headed for the east coast.

Hopefully, we'll journal along the way this time, then put the finishing touches on when we get back. It'll be much less overwhelming. However, I have so much help and enthusiasm, we're whipping through it (at a snail's pace--"Don't put scissors in your mouth." "Please don't step on the pictures...").

This was an idea from a homeschooling magazine I read recently--can't remember which one right now. It was either Homeschooling Today or Homeschooling Horizons. The writer enthusiastically remembered scrapbooking her way through family vacations with her sisters. Not necessarily keeping a traditional diary, just making a collection of mementos and scattered thoughts.

We began by getting an old atlas and a hardcover journal. I cut out the provinces from the Canada map in the atlas. We decided to journal chronologically (where we actually went) rather than province by province, since we got to the west coast last. It didn't make sense to start there.

I made a title page for the whole trip, then a title page for the first part of it. I glued Saskatchewan and Alberta in place and marked our travel route on them with contrasting pen and highlighter for good measure.

We printed off some of our digital photos, and I made several maple-leaf-themed templates. Some for photos, and one for them to write a few thoughts on. We trimmed pictures with great creativity (and new scissors! Joy!!), jotted down favourite events and memories, and created layouts before gluing them into place.

Even Brat Boy filled out his own entry, writing "bunny" and "T-rex." (The bunny came into our campsite on the second night. First the kids fed it, then they chased it. Typical.)

I went back to my old blog posts from last year and printed them off, with a few edits. These made up the actual travel log for our Alberta segment. To make sure I could glue it in, I opted to space the paragraphs wide, print it on half-pages, and do some artful paper-tearing to fit things in the journal.

The result is a family collaboration that looks lovely so far, and contains the individual thoughts and memories of each of us. It's not really Daddy's kind of thing, so I doubt he'll contribute. We may convince him to after awhile, just so as to have some of him in the pages too.

Though they're outside on the trampoline, bouncing out their pent-up excitement about the upcoming plans, they assured me they want to continue working on the project. Skills have included:

• creative writing
• spelling (they each had a mistake or two and a question or two)
• copywork (Squirrelly Girlie wanted to write "my favourite things in Alberta" just the way I did)
• dictation ("Banana, tell Brat Boy how to spell T-rex while I print the bunny picture.")
• art
  
• co-operative tasking
  
• fine motor skills for the little ones

A Day of Sheer Calm

We went out to the Margaret Ann for the afternoon and evening to do some small fixes and tune the rigging. This means adjusting the steel cables that hold the mast and the foresails in place. We've been having some trouble getting things tight enough, as the cables are quite stretched out. Some of the adjustments will probably require taking the mast down and adjusting some things at the top.

We'll only have her in the water another week or so, and so we're not too worried about getting it all perfect right now. However, it's not good to have the rigging too loose, as sudden gusts of wind can smack the mast around and really wrench on the boat where the cables are attached.

It was dead calm. We took the dinghy this time, and the kids spent a good 5 hours puttering around the lake. It's a decent-sized critter, with a 2 HP outboard. We put Spazz in charge of navigation, and the four of them went out together.

It felt like a rite of passage to me. They always stayed in sight, but they went almost all the way across to the far shore. (Granted, our "lake" is really just a ravine full of water, not even as big as some rivers.) I watched them experiment with the excitement of being so independent, and at the same time, cling somewhat close. I saw the responsibility we've been trying to teach them actually get exercised.

We decided to let the sailboat be a motorboat for the evening, and took supper out on the water. It was like glass, and we just let her drift. The kids pulled up alongside, to parental cries of, "Oh, no! Pirates!" We bribed the raiders with sandwiches and juice boxes. Then we gave them a bag of chips and let 'em loose. They were very careful not to get any garbage in the lake.

Dave snoozed on one of the cockpit seats, while I watched the clear sky, the drift of the boat, and the children whizzing in a large circle around us. The fun was finished when Brat Boy decided he needed to go potty. It is hard spending half a day in and out of a dinghy when you're 5. Spazz poured it on when the girls started shrieking, "Oh, no, he's dribbling! We've gotta get back there fast!" This turned out to be hyperbole, for which the girls are infamous. However, it ended Dave's nap.

We came back ashore feeling very satisfied with the relaxation of the day. It really did feel like a day off.

Ship Log of the Margaret Ann Aug 26th

We were out on the lake for about 2 hours this afternoon. We sailed up the lake this time, where it was broader but shallower. There were a few times the depth alarm went off. However, the wind was easier to work with up there, because it wasn't gusting off the hills or blocked by patches of trees.

We were about to turn around when we saw a powerboat coming up behind us. We decided to wait till they'd gone past, but the boat headed toward us, slowing. We soon realized it was our friends from north of town. they had a camera with them, and took several pictures of Margaret Ann over the course of the afternoon.

We greatly enjoyed seeing the jaw-drop effect among some of the fishermen on shore as we sailed back past the launch. The boat generates a certain amount of excitement.

The kids had great fun riding on the bowsprit today. We had just the right wind direction to allow us to reach up and down the lake with almost no tacking needed, so they were able to perch right under the staysail without having to get out of the way every few minutes.

I had the pleasure of hauling and furling the sails today. I like having the chance to get to know the boat better.

We measured our time, and with a leisurely jib dropped here and a mainsail there, it took us about 25 minutes to furl and prepare to dock. We were not scrambling, by any means--the jib came down and we ran her sloop-rigged back towards the docks, saving us some hassle while trying to park and roller-furl the boom in the midst of all the fishing craft that were out today.

Introducing the Next Great Chef

The kids loved that TV cooking competition when it aired–Canada’s Next Great Chef contest. The participants were students and graduates from chef schools, seeking professional recognition in their field.

This evening, I cooked a "different" meal. It involved frozen vegetables–winter mix (broccoli and cauliflower). I used a pack of instant noodles–fettucine alfredo, with a mix of spinach noodles and a parmesan-flavoured sauce. I took a chicken breast and sauteed it with random amounts of salsa and taco sauce, plus a couple of pared apples. There would have been some asparagus spears, but they were done cooking early, and I kind of ate them while I was doing the chicken.

To make it more appealing, I said to the kids, "Let’s play Next Great Chef!" Three out of four said, "Yayyy!!!" The oldest sulked and muttered, and was banished from the kitchen.

We laid a bed of winter mix on a Corelle serving platter. We made a hollow in the middle where we placed the pasta. Then we used tongs to lift the chicken pieces from their mushy-apple-and-salsa sauce and arranged them in a sun pattern.

This sparked much creative imagination. "It looks like a sun." "It looks like a sundog!" "It’s spring, and there’s snow and grass, and the sun is coming out." "Mommy, what’s a sundog??"

We then took pictures of our bee-yoo-tee-full creation, amid admonishments not to ogle it too long, or it would be cold. The oldest walked through and muttered disgustedly, "That’s weird." He was consigned to wait to eat until everyone else had finished.

The girls were disappointed that we had to make it all ugly in order to scoop it onto our plates. However, they liked the taste of it very much. Score one for Mommy–much more successful than Monster Soup.

Ship Log of the Margaret Ann

We met at the launch as David came off the day shift, and set sail immediately. I had the tiller for a bit, but found my mate to be an incorrigible backseat driver, so I went below, informing him that he was welcome to drive. Supper was served on board, consisting of salami sandwiches. Snacks this time were apples and carrots, as I spent 5 hours cleaning out the boat on Tuesday.

Granted, some of that cleaning involved the nastiness of disinfecting the head area and mopping up the remnants of bilge water in the saloon area. However, nary a pretzel shall ever set foot on my ship again.

After supper, I took the tiller again, courtesy of a repentant Only Mate (calling him my First Mate will only spark another tiff over who is in fact the captain). The evening was calm and cool. There was almost no wind, and it was coming across the width of the lake, making steady sailing a little difficult. We found out some wonderful technical aspects about our boat. First, she can reach incredibly close into the wind with all sails up. Second, she really does find wind where there is none. We made our way towards the dam, struggling to find a good angle to the poor wind direction. But on the way back to the launch, she glided along in the tiny breeze, making her way about 30 degrees off the wind.

We brought warm jackets, and ended up thankful for them. Dave went and sat up in front of the mast, greatly enjoying the view and the feel of the boat from there. He helped each of the youngest three kids take a turn riding the bowsprit. They found that completely cool.

As I tacked back up the lake, I faced the occasional helpful comment from my less-experienced Only Mate, who was convinced we could round the point back to the launch with shorter tacks than I was inclined to take. I knew full well this wasn't true, but humoured him. The more tacks, the longer it would take to dock.

We loosened the sheets and let the boat drift in the middle of the lake, opposite the dock, as we practiced roller-furling the mainsail on the boom. The staysail is on a furler, a spring-loaded contraption that rolls the sail for us. The jib (second sail, directly in front of the mainsail) comes with no such luxuries.

Spazzerific sat at the tiller and attempted to keep the boat's nose into the wind while we furled the main. Having the jib up and the main essentially reefed resulted in a fair bit of lee helm, and the boat wanted to turn with the wind. This made Spazz a bit nervous, but he did fine.

With the sails furled and the keel raised, Dave started the outboard and took us in to the dock. We discovered that the keel was not fully raised when the boat grounded. However, this was not a major emergency, and was easily fixed.

Banana took the following photo of me standing on the foredeck as we prepared to dock. I love riding in to the dock Jack Sparrow-style.

Ship Log of the Margaret Ann

We launched the Margaret Ann around 9:30 this morning. It took us some time to step the mast, but was much easier than our dry run ashore yesterday, as all the grey Great Lakes sand had fallen out of its hollow core. Without the sand pouring out and jamming the bottom, fastening the front stay was a relative breeze.

We began by sailing with the mainsail only. When we raised the clubfoot jib, we quickly realized how much of a difference it made to the balance of the boat. No more fighting the helm. Dave insisted on trying to install the bimini overtop my head and in the midst of the rigging as I was attempting to pilot the boat, which resulted in a few territorial words being exchanged.

We allowed the kids to have snacks on board--Doritos and pretzels. Never again. The whole cabin was littered with them. The boat is just not big enough for that kind of mess to be even a bit bearable.

The kids decided that they loved sailing, until it began to rain; the wind died; and the boat threatened to drift aground in a shallows while Dave struggled to get the outboard going. However, they were able to shelter below while Dave and I got a soaking. The bimini provided some protection, but shed water right onto my seat so that I ended up wet from the waist down. I didn't care. It was too much fun.

In spite of thunder and lightning, Dave was determined to sail her back to the dock. It took a lot of convincing to talk him into putting it under motor power, and a few good cracks right overhead.

We went back to town and got permission to moor her at the launch, and also a padlock for the cabin. We were able to store rudder and outboard below and tie up over at the pilings, off both the docks and away from the beaten paths. This made us a bit nervous, leaving her there, but she'll be coming out for the winter next Tuesday.

I went through two changes of clothes (foolishly thinking the worst of the rain was over, when in fact it was yet to come) and spent the evening shivering under a blanket, but without the slightest discontent. There truly is nothing better than mucking about in a boat.

Spontaneous Bursts of Chess

We were out partying last night, and didn’t get in till midnight. (By partying, I mean roasting marshmallows and stargazing with a bunch of friends.) Today is what I call a “non-day”–everyone got up late and has accomplished very little, while the time just seems to glide by.

The kids have been watching parts of a favourite movie, Pride and Prejudice – the 5-hour-long, A & E version. Having finished with Mr. Darcy’s horrendous proposal and Lizzie’s rejection, they chose to turn to the chess board.

For some reason, the 5-year-old was playing against the 11-year-old. I have no idea if Brat Boy even knows how the pieces move. Spazz, of course, trounced him, and was revelling in his own ego rather than showing any concern over having his little brother in tears.

Spazz capped off his bad behaviour with, “Well, I expected him to play better than that.”

And with that, I was quite fed up. I threatened to sit him down and embarrass him thoroughly at a match if he didn’t smarten up, and asked him how he’d like it if I were to make him feel that way. He said he “probably” wouldn’t like it too much.

“A little more than probably,” I growled at him. “Sit down and work on endgame together.”

In practising their endgame, they are not to be playing against each other as such, but strategizing co-operatively. They dug out their Chess for Kids book. They chose a few pieces to work with, and started reading. Banana Brain is now flipping through the book, while the Littles are setting up pieces. The Spazz has sulked off to his room to read, which is the best place possible for him when he’s tired.

At times, they’re great at creating their own learning experiences like this. At others, their undeveloped personalities create less-than-gracious situations, and that’s where I come in. My job is to redirect, to draw lines regarding courtesy, fair play and rules, and to ensure things stay enjoyable. If they don’t, I shut it down, and we move on.