geometric patterns from medieval art and architecture

 today was chanda's first day at our local homeschooling waldorf coop. my friend janet had her two sons participate last year and i heard wonderful stories of the many projects they did. since i've been a bit slow at getting lessons together for her, and she's a bit slow at completing things, we both thought it would be a good experience for her to work with a teacher in a small group setting.

 the day began at 10 am with svetlana (who is from moldova and has a masters degree in waldorf education) leading a circle time that included poetry and songs. she then talked with them about the structure and function of the church in medieval times, demonstrating with an outline of the floor plan of st. peter's basilica in rome. they began a drawing which they are to finish at home. we then had lunch together followed by a craft which consisted of constructing a pentagonal lantern for martinmas.

the class was held in one of the family's homes uptown. it's a beautiful apartment and i enjoyed sitting in the kitchen, knitting and talking with two other moms. (the kitchen is my dream kitchen with wood cabinets, a huge frig, a big, bright window, an eating area/workspace counter top, tall stools to sit on and shelves stuffed with cookbooks). the participating families take turns with providing lunch and today katie, whose home it was at, made baked sweet potatoes and white potatoes with a kale salad and sliced apples and avocadoes. it was a delicious meal!

 working on the basilica floor plan at home.

the lantern needs to be glued (our mod podge glue is missing and i need to pick up some more).

poem for a sunday

 we had pancakes this morning . . 

 along with our sunday poem which was robert burns' to a mouse: 

to a mouse 

on turning her up in her nest with the plough, november, 1785 

wee, sleekit, cowrin, tim'rous beastie, 
o, what a panic's in thy breastie! 
thou need na start awa sae hasty,
wi' bickering brattle! 
i wad be laith to rin an' chase thee,
wi' murdering pattle!

i'm truly sorry man's dominion 
has broken nature's social union,
an' justifies that ill opinion
which makes thee startle
at me, thy poor, earth-born companion
an' fellow-mortal!

i doubt na, whyles, but thou may thieve;
what then? poor beastie, thou maun live!
a daimen-icker in a thrave
's a sma' requet; 
i'll get a blessin wi' the lave,
an' never miss't!

thy wee-bit housie, too, in ruin! 
its silly wa's the win's are strewin! 
an' naething, now, to big a new ane,
o' foggage green!
an' bleak december's win's ensuing,
baith snell an' keen!

thou saw the fields laid bare an' waste, 
an' weary Winter comin fast, 
an' cozie here, beneath the blast,
thou thought to dwell, 
till crash! the cruel coulter past
out thro' thy cell.

that wee bit heap o' leaves and stibble, 
has cost thee monie a weary nibble! 
now thou's turned out, for a' thy trouble,
but house or hald, 
to thole the winter's sleety dribble,
an' cranreuch cauld!

but mousie, thou art no thy lane, 
in proving foresight may be in vain: 
the best-laid schemes o' mice an' men
gang aft agley, 
an' lea'e us nought but grief an' pain,
for promis'd joy!

still thou are blest, compared wi' me! 
the present only toucheth thee:
but Och! i backward cast my e'e,
on prospects drear! 
an' forward, tho' I cannot see,
i guess an' fear!

discussing the line "of mice and men . . "

 chanda dusted off the piano and we fixed up our nature table.

 martinmas is almost upon us . . 

i've been wanting to do this for weeks so it felt good to finally accomplish it.

afterwards, i walked with chanda to her dance rehearsal at the mary anthony studio.

 mary's cat lounging on the divan . . 

oh! well, if you're going to take my picture . .

 so many mementoes . . mary anthony passed away just this year. she was 97 years old.

 in front of the desk is a picture of jose limon in the moor's pavane.

she only just retired from teaching last year. she was an amazing woman and you can read a little bit about her in a new york times article here (i like the photograph they include).

it was cold walking home this evening, so it was good to get back to a warm apartment. we had a nice dinner together of carrots, potatoes and a pork roast.

another grey day

 the light on these grey days encases the leaves in a luminescent glow . .

 colors the buildings orange . . 

 it's a beautiful fall . . 

 a locust tree is still holding out . . 

and it was cool enough today for hot chocolate . .

it felt good to wake up this saturday morning and not have anywhere in particular to go. every weekend has been busy with visiting my mom or my sister or a harvest festival (moving plans and halloween, etc). today was a vacation for greg and i, though korrina and chanda were busy with work and ballet.

friday field trip and afternoon baking

 we were out early this morning for a school performance at the new victory theatre on 42nd street.

 today the isango ensemble from cape town, south africa, performed mozart's the magic flute with an orchestra of marimbas. it was a heartfelt and honest and incredibly unique production. i can still hear the singers' beautiful voices in my head. it was very different and fun to see. i've really loved these first two shows at the new vic this year. sometimes the productions are a little too loud and slick for me, but the magic flute and the old man and the old moon were warm and earthy with important messages of adventure, heroism, and being true to one's self. you can learn about the isango ensemble and see some of their pieces here.

 it was a grey day when we emerged from the theatre and the light downtown accented the green of the trees and the red brown brick of the buildings.

 jefferson market with a grey, rainy looking sky. chanda went to a private ballet lesson with her dance teacher and korrina and i went home.

 i baked another pie. we had puree leftover from chanda's pumpkin and i had promised her that i would use it. i added a little butternut squash to it.

the texture was a little different as i mixed the cream cheese with the pumpkin first, rather than the sugar. it was more grainy, not as smooth. i minded, but no one else seemed to.

schoolwork, skyping and supper

 this morning in our day book, chanda and i read about william cullen bryant, an american romantic poet who was born in massachusetts but lived his adult years in new york city. it's always interesting for me to find out about a public figure after i've known his name for a long time. for years we have been ice skating at bryant park, but never investigated the origin of the name. william cullen bryant was a prominent figure in new york city. he worked for fifty years as the editor in chief of the new york evening post where he wrote many editorials championing the rights of immigrants, religious minorities, and the rights of workers to unionize. he was also an outspoken critic of slavery and introduced lincoln at cooper union in 1860, where lincoln gave his cooper union speech outlining his views on slavery and solidifying his nomination for the presidency. bryant also supported the creation of central park and the metropolitan museum of art, and was one of the founders of new york medical college. his poetry focuses on nature and i was happy that laura berquist's the harp and the laurel wreath had one of his poems (chanda did a dictation):

to a waterfowl

whither, ‘midst falling dew,
while glow the heavens with the last steps of day,
far, through their rosy depths, dost thou pursue
thy solitary way?

vainly the fowler’s eye
might mark thy distant flight to do thee wrong,
as, darkly painted on the crimson sky,
thy figure floats along.

seek’st thou the plashy brink
of weedy lake, or marge of river wide,
or where the rocking billows rise and sink
on the chafed ocean side?

there is a power whose care
teaches thy way along that pathless coast,--
the desert and illimitable air,--
lone wandering, but not lost.

all day thy wings have fanned,
at that far height, the cold, thin atmosphere,
yet stoop not, weary, to the welcome land,
though the dark night is near.

and soon that toil shall end;
soon shalt thou find a summer home, and rest,
and scream among thy fellows; reeds shall bend,
soon, o’er thy sheltered nest.

thou’rt gone, the abyss of heaven
hath swallowed up thy form; yet, on my heart
deeply hath sunk the lesson thou hast given,
and shall not soon depart.

he who, from zone to zone,
guides through the boundless sky thy certain flight,
in the long way that i must tread alone,
will lead my steps aright.

 also put her iroquois report into her lesson book,

 and we began re-reading the fourth harry potter book in preparation for book five . . 

 suddenly in the midst of the day morgana emailed asking if we wanted to skype!

 of course we did and we all took turns talking to her.

 this is dinner preparation at 7 pm . .

we had leftover mashed potatoes that korrina had made at school the night before along with a salad put together by chanda, and breaded chicken breasts (again, compliments of korrina - i was happy for i didn't cook tonight so of course dinner was delicious).

all souls' day

all souls' day

 let's go our old way

by the stream, and kick the leaves
as we always did, to make
the rhythm of breaking waves.

this day draws no breath –
shows no colour anywhere
except for the leaves - in their death
brilliant as never before.

yellow of brimstone butterfly,
brown of oak eggar moth –
you'd say. And i'd be wondering why
a summer never seems lost

if two have been together
witnessing the variousness of light,
and the same two in lustreless november
enter the year's night…

the slow-worm stream - how still!
above that spider's unguarded door,
look – dull pearls…time's full,
brimming, can hold no more.

next moment (we well know,
my darling, you and i)
what the small day cannot hold
must spill into eternity.

so perhaps we should move cat-soft
meanwhile, and leave everything unsaid,
until no shadow of risk can be left
of disturbing the scatheless dead.

ah, but you were always leaf-light.
and you so seldom talk
as we go. but there at my side
through the bright leaves you walk.

and yet – touch my hand
that i may be quite without fear,
for it seems as if a mist descends,
and the leaves where you walk do not stir.

by frances bellerby

 xena, aunt evie, and jack

 surprisingly, chanda requested risotto for dinner . .

 and i made another pumpkin pie with fresh butternut squash.

more foliage and a birthday celebration

 we traveled home today . . and it was another beautiful day on the road. it rained again, but it wasn't too heavy and driving wasn't bad.

 the pumpkins had returned to abingdon square park, looking just a little bedraggled from their time in the rain.

 chanda had an acting class and nutcracker rehearsal at her ballet school, and then i met her for a birthday celebration (while she was at class i went to our local tibetan store for the gift).

 we met our friends at sticky rice, a thai restaurant on the lower east side just a block from the tenement museum. i had a delicious coconut soup and chicken, mango and peanut dumplings. the food was soooo good. we'd like to come back one day with greg as we think he would really enjoy it.

 we celebrated amelia's birthday . . she turned eighteen on october 15th.

it was nice to sit and talk with friends. since the girls do so much on their own now, we don't get to see each other very often.