Outside Time

I had lunch with a student yesterday and we sat at one of the outside picnic tables.  Then we walked on the school track for a little while.

It was nice for a lot of reasons, but especially because it was a beautiful spring day and I enjoyed being outside rather than cooped up in my fresh air-less library.

"What I Love About Spring"

Trees are growing
Streams are flowing
Cool Spring showers
Blooming flowers
Caterpillars creep
Peepers peep
Playing sports
Wearing shorts
April Fools'
Swimming pools
Going places
Relay races
Days are longer
Sun is stronger
Every morning songbirds sing --
I love nearly everything!

by Douglas Florian (from Handsprings, pg 18)

Here We Go . . . Again

I made it through the National Blog Posting Month challenge.  It was much easier, and more satisfying, than I thought it would be.  I had fun deciding what books to write about and picking out new ones to read to Isaac.  I found myself being much more intentional about what we read together, rather than just grabbing something at bedtime.  I am glad that I took the challenge of writing about something each day.

I actually don't want to stop posting, but I know that in the hectic pace of our daily lives this blog will get pushed to the background, behind the 100 other mundane tasks that need to be done each day.  I have liked having the daily time to reflect, but I know myself well enough to predict that just wanting to do it is not enough.  I need a challenge or a goal to keep me going.

So, I have given myself one . . . continue to post each day until Christmas about a seasonal (winter or holiday) book.  I have already started my list of books to write about.  My challenge will be to find enough new books to post here -- ones that I have not written about previously.

I am also giving myself this challenge the week before my book fair begins.  I am not sure if that proves how much I really like doing this or if I am just a glutton for punishment.

So, here we go again.  And to get us started, enjoy this poem.

Naughtumn by Douglas Florian
(from Autumnblings)

The trees are bare.

The birds have flown.

What's going to grow

This year has grown.

The leaves fall down

And then get burned,

As autumn slowly gets winturned.