Last weekend we got to spend a beautiful day at our local Patriot Park with friends. It’s so local, we were able to walk there from our home. This park was an undeveloped field known as “Future Park” for the better part of 20 years. It’s pretty awesome now, although it was wonderful as a wild place, too.

The kiddos had a blast playing. Lucas showed us how he can do the monkey bars now! He has tried for so many years and now he can do it! Very exciting.

I got to take photos of my darlings under the almond trees, which I had been eyeing for a few days.

We got to clown about. Our darling Headra was visiting us!

We took some portraits of the delightful H kids …

and some of my handsome guys.

Lucas climbed a tree.

Asher tagged along after R, who is very sweet to him. The sky was very dramatic after the rainstorm of the night before. It felt so nice to be outdoors and surrounded by the scent of almond blossoms.

The walk home felt a little long for the kiddos, but the hot chocolate at the end proved to be a sufficient reward.

Early spring skies can be so dramatic, especially after a rain. Sometimes I forget to look up. When I remember to do so, I’m always richly rewarded.

One day last weekend, after a heavy rainstorm, we walked to a local park with some friends. I had to visit the almond trees there. It was one of those days when the sun peeked out from behind heavy gray and cotton white clouds.

I know it is still winter, technically, and huge swaths of the country are still covered in mountains of snow, but around here, we’re having some lovely, sunny days and trees everywhere are leafing out and blossoming.

Almond flowers smell divine, and they litter the ground in white petal snow.

It may be the suburbs, but there is beauty everywhere. It’s my mission to seek it out. To notice. To let it fill me up and sustain me.

Across the street from my home, my neighbor has one of the largest magnolia trees (also called tulip trees) I’ve ever seen. I love it. When it blooms in February, it is spectacular and I wait eagerly for it  all winter. The flowers are large, almost the size of my hand, and the tree is easily 35 feet tall. Although it’s not a unique characteristic of this tree, it still never ceases to amaze me that the magnolia’s giant flowers spring from completely bare branches. It’s as if the spirit of the tree gets so excited for the coming spring, it cannot even wait for its pale green leaves to form before bursting out in blooms. I will watch it become engulfed in pink, and hope the rains hold off a little while to give it time to flower.

Our babies are here! We picked out ten wee chicks at the feed store on Thursday and it was a thrill. We got two chicks each of five different breeds in the hopes that this will help us to know them all as individuals even when they are grown.

Lucas picked them all out. They are sweet little handfuls of fluff.

They are completely “a-DOH-able,” as Asher says. Fuzzy and peepy and sleepy and ever so young! Just two or three days old now. For the next few weeks they will be living in our makeshift “brooder box” in my office, the warmest room in the house. We have learned that they need to be kept warm — really warm. You and I would call it hot. We have had to make adjustments of our plans and setup to accommodate this new info. (I expect to say that a lot during this chick-raising adventure, since this is our first time!) As they grow, they will become more comfortable with slightly lower temps. Nevertheless, we are all enchanted.

More later. I think I’ll go hold one and watch her fall asleep in my hands.

These little signs make me happy. More rain next week!

Unfolding leaves

Blossoms on trees

Fattening lilac buds

Tulips coming up

Fruit tree flowers

Buds on the neighbor’s magnolia tree

Snowdrops at Lucas’s school

Buds on my plum trees

Lone primrose survivor

73 degrees on February 6? I love California! Many thanks to my favorite rock stacker and my favorite acorn planter for showing me this beautiful, local hike to Goose Flat. It was nourishing for my soul and I can’t wait to bring my family here.

Long about this time of year, I go seeking colors. Our gray skies and foggy mornings get old, after a while, and we don’t have any snow to brighten up the landscape. I’m not really complaining, though. I love living here in California. Here are some of winter’s colors I found in my yard or in my neighborhood.

This flowering quince is a harbinger of the spring to come. It’s coral blooms are inspiring me this year.

Redwoods have a comforting feel about them, I think. They seem to say, “Patience, Child. All will be well.”

See the stars? I don’t know the name of these berries, but they’re found on a bush similar to photinia, only with leaves of a darker green. Holler if you know what it is.

This brave trumpet is a hummingbird attractor. It’s kind of limping along in my front yard, where the soil is none too good.

I would absolutely call these fringe flower bushes one of the best landscaping buys I’ve ever made. They are powerhouse bloomers.

Heavenly bamboo. Showstoppers, plain and simple.

We had several glorious, sparkly days in a row last week. (I love California!) For me they culminated in this perfect walk we took last Saturday. Ian, the boys, and I visited a small section of the American River Parkway called the San Juan Rapids trail.

It’s a great, short walk (for little legs), which are compelled to follow brother wherever he may roam.

Even out on a limb, so to speak.

This photo was taken from the top of Crystal Mountain, a giant hill of rocks left over from the days of industrial gold mining. This trail is familiar to Lucas because it’s right near his Waldorf school and he hikes here with his class often—this is good because he gets to be the authority on the area. He likes that very much.

If all goes well, it won’t be too long before Asher is hiking here with his Kindergarten class, hoping to find quartz crystals of his own.

May I present my almost-4-year-old? Isn’t he mighty?

Today is one of those glorious pea-soup foggy days. I told Asher that some cloud up in the sky was curious about people, and came down to visit. “Look, mama, I can’t see the school!”

I have 35 minutes to myself to get my heart pounding and revel in the quiet. Normally I would hear many birds singing and squirrels barking whenever I passed too closely to their trees. Not today. In the hush of the low-lying mist, even the birds seem to whisper, as though they’re in church.

Perhaps the hundreds of squirrels are all still abed, sleeping in. Perhaps today is a day of rest, even though it’s not marked as such on my calendar. Spiderwebs on hedges are so wet with dew, they are sagging.

I pass a neighbor’s yard. Tiny droplets of water sparkle at the end of pine needle sprays. The closest trees are black against the fog, distant ones are erased in mist. The trees are laid bare, arthritic bones are revealed. And yet, they look lacy against the gray-white sky, as though they’ve put on crocheted gloves over their bony fingertips. Some still sport seed pods or random leaves that forgot to fall. Some are already swelling with buds, as if to proclaim to King Winter, “I am not finished! You will not conquer me.”

No dogs bark at me, even at the home where five of them jealously guard their little patch of Fair Oaks. Their fence sign boasts, “I can make it to the gate in 3 minutes. Can you?” I assume they’re all vying for space near the heating vents and fireside indoors.

I walk down a long straight hill, noticing the deep green of a redwood, the rosy blush of a heavenly bamboo bush. Tiny signs of the coming spring are revealed a bit here, a bit there. I have to look closely for them, and they make me smile. There’s a flowering quince! It’s coral buds are getting fat. Some early blooms are opening nearest the base of the twigs, and they’ll bloom upward like that in a kind of wave. I spy rosemary bushes covered in lavender blossoms. But they’re lonely. No bees serenade them yet. One front yard is graced with a thick ruffle of petite, buttery jonquils.

I notice the squish of my feet as I pass some yards, where the messy autumn leaves are being left to rot. Leaf litter is ground into black muck on the pavement. Some leaves are disintegrating into doilies.

A small flock of Canada geese flies low, making two passes and honking. They are clownish phantoms except when directly overhead. Their monochrome blends into the sky.

I trudge up the hill and come close enough that the garish green fence finally reveals itself. It blinks out of the fog as if someone just turned on the electricity. It is the greenest fence I have ever seen. It is, frankly, impossibly green, and moreover, frankly, I adore it. If it had only stayed plain, showing its natural wood tones, it could have graced a traditional Japanese garden. Happily, its goofy coloring is nowhere near so demure. Happily, it shouts hello to me into the quiet morning.

I round the corner, passing the empty playground. Sometimes little ones with parents are here playing. Not today. Even the beehive in the base of the tree is quiet, seemingly deserted. I hope the bees are inside keeping warm.

There’s something rather Victorian about my neighborhood today. Somehow the fog lends these familiar sights a romance, a mystery. I imagine cobblestones and hoop skirts, and the watery glow of London streetlamps. Where is that piper when I need him?

Houses are storytellers, if you bother to notice the tales they share. Some are old-old, falling mournfully into disrepair or melting into their overgrown yards. Some tell you they are rentals; they seem to say they aren’t one-family homes, but rather they entertain a series of lonely guests year after year. Some homes are elderly men and women, who quite clearly and purposefully look after their health. They take their vitamins and their fiber. They are kept up, wearing nice clothes and dapper roofs. Their neatly trimmed trees and bushes tell you they see the manicurist regularly. Few homes around here are new; they glow with youth like the fresh-faced teens of the neighborhood. Some proudly sport both laugh lines and boob jobs at the same time. These have shiny SUVs in their driveways.

It’s all kind of magical. It’s all ordinary. And since I alone am here to witness it, it’s all mine.

The boys and I checked out a local nature area that I only recently became aware of. Schweitzer Grove Nature Area in Fair Oaks is a lovely grove of eucalyptus. At this time of winter, the grasses and mosses are all bright green and the afternoon sunshine makes everything magical.

The key feature is this tiny creek running through the park. It was jumped and crossed endlessly while we were there. I’m told that the springtime singing of the frogs is delightful.

Eucalyptus Sky

Funny golden mushrooms of some type (I am no mycologist)

With a pair of trusty hand-me-down boots, a kid can go almost anywhere.

Balancing on this plank bridge was no problem for Lucas. Asher would accept no help; he crawled across.

Having opportunities to meaner by oneself is so important. Honestly, kids don’t get to do this much these days—even my kids. I followed behind, trying to give my boys their space.

With those trusty boots on, it was inevitable that he ended up in the creek.

An undeveloped park like this, of this size, really is a perfect place to wander, discover, and ramble about. The drawback to this place, since I am not a frisbee golfer, is that this is also a frisbee golf course—apparently one of the oldest ones around. Besides ourselves, there were many young male golfers present, mostly of college or high school age. Nearly every one of them carried a very large can of beer—possibly a function of it being Friday near 5 p.m. They were mostly polite and friendly, but I did worry a bit about one of us getting beamed by a frisbee while we were walking. I think next time we come here, we might aim for a weekday morning instead.

This is the third part in a three-part article about what Waldorf school looks like compared to public school. If you’re just coming to this, I encourage you to read Part 1, which can be found here, and Part 2, which is here. This is, of course, our experience and others will have different takes on Waldorf education. Please keep in mind that Ian and I are parents, not teachers, so our perspective on Waldorf is a parents’ perspective.

11. The School Day. A typical day at Waldorf school for the third grade consists of main lesson (subjects of language arts and math are taught in six-week blocks), snack time, specialty class, lunch, and then two specialty classes. There are several recesses too. Spanish, German, handwork, music, and gardening are each taught twice a week. Movement, Eurhythmy, painting, and form drawing are taught once per week. Two or three periods a week are devoted to reading practice and groups. My son loves all of his subjects.

Right now in main lesson, they are working on math, with specific emphasis on measurement and reviewing carrying and introducing borrowing. Next month they will move into a “shelter and housing” block. They will study housing around the world and the history of life skills. The children will choose a particular type of house or home and then fashion a realistic 3-D shelter diorama and present a report to the class. I have seen the most amazing shelter dioramas—igloos, geodesic domes, longhouses, log cabins—pass by me at school, lovingly carried (with difficulty) by their third-grade creators. This shelter block harkens back to autumn blocks of gardening and farming and building. In the spring, the third grade will have a social studies and life sciences block that covers clothing and textiles. Students will complete a clothing and weaving project, which handsomely dovetails with their handwork classes covering crochet and spinning.That’s a lot of information about our grade specifically, but it gives a picture of what school is like and shows how many teaching modalities are present, as art, movement, and music are interwoven throughout. All grades have some variation on this kind of day, with subjects becoming more advanced as the children grow.

Overall, the Waldorf curriculum is highly geared to meet the needs of the growing child, whose development can be divided into three main phases. Birth to age 7 is considered to be the imitation/will years; 7 to age 14 are considered to be the imagination/feeling years; and ages 14 to 21 make up the truth-seeking/thinking years. Subjects are introduced with these developmental stages in mind, for example eighth graders study world revolutions.

12. Parent Involvement. Our school is not, strictly speaking,  a “parent-participation” school. Parents do not volunteer regularly in the classroom. However, parents support and help with many tasks, and are asked to get involved in everything from festival committees and boosters clubs to the parent guild and the board of directors. There are celebrations and festivals all year long that require a great deal of parent involvement, and many fundraisers. Each family is asked to volunteer in numerous ways and to let the school know their particular talents and hobbies. There are hundreds of ways to be involved in our child’s education. I was thrilled when I was asked to help with baking dragon breads, to take photographs of the Harvest Faire, and to paint wings for the third grade’s Firebird Eurhythmy performance last fall.

13. Festivals. So what are these festivals anyway? Waldorf schools celebrate a plethora of festivals that might be unfamiliar to many, or perhaps may be familiar only because they once were (or still are) a part of the yearly liturgical rhythm of European cultures. These festivals are closely connected to the seasons and occur almost once per month. Michaelmas occurs at the end of September. Harvest Faire happens in October. Martinmas and Thanksgiving are in November. The season of Advent is celebrated as the contemplative days leading up to the winter solstice and Christmas. May Day is a big school-wide festival that happens in the first week of May.

School festivals are opportunities for celebration, for contemplation and inner revelation, and for community building. By celebrating holidays and holding festivals, we celebrate the bounty and beauty of life. We stand up, take a deep breath, and collectively say, “We are human and humans together.” Because they are unique to Waldorf schools, these festivals are a kind of icing on the Waldorf cake and most families love to partake.

14. Nourishment. From the moment we set foot on our Waldorf school campus we have been nourished in every way. Every sense* is considered in every moment: sight, sound, taste, touch. Lighting is beautiful. Materials used in school are superb and of the best possible quality so that they may please and inspire. Wood, wool, sunlight, silk, paints of the purest colors, and nourishing foods are the delights that surround my son during his school day. Every item is both functional and beautiful, from the desks to the doorjambs, from the spectacular woods and river surrounding the campus to the school farm. And let me talk about that farm a moment. Fruits and vegetables are grown organically and biodynamically all year. Some (very lucky) animals make their homes there: a sweet old cow, a flock of chickens who produce lovely eggs, several sheep, and an old man llama named Balboa. Children participate in working this farm throughout grades 1–8 in their gardening classes. They learn where food comes from, and through their labors in the sun and open air get an inkling of the time, effort, and knowledge required to produce and harvest food. In the Waldorf Kindergarten, snack is provided by the school and the little ones are fed nourishing grains, vegetables, and soups. I assert that whenever 24 5- and 6-year-olds eat organic vegetable and barley soup together as a class, a small miracle has occurred. And I think any parent with a picky eater will agree.

15. Nature, Reverence, and Respect. This is perhaps the aspect of Waldorf education that most appeals to me. Wonderment and reverence for nature and humanity are part of my personal morality, and this is something I truly hope my children will learn. And I see these principles in practice every day at school. Rudolf Steiner said, “Receive the children in reverence; educate them in love; let them go forth in freedom.” We believe that our son is being taught as and treated as an individual with worth. We believe he is loved and valued and that his contributions to the class and the lives of the students and teacher are valued. We think this is a pretty good case for Waldorf education, since it is in feeling loved and wanted and respected that people are able to open up to learning and new experiences, and make lasting relationships. We do not want our son to burn out on school. We don’t want him to hate school and hate learning. We do not want him simply to survive his schooling, but rather to thrive in it and because of it. We feel that our private school is an investment in his future success and may help stave off some of the problems that teens and young adults face. We might be wrong, of course. Nothing is guaranteed. No school will raise him for us. We still have the toughest job of parenting. I wouldn’t have it any other way. (I welcome your comments.)

* Steiner described and explored twelve senses of the human being. I am not qualified to explain these.