Colour is the word of the day.

Colour Seen

With wondering eyes
A boy, he sees
international traveller
The colour of the trees.

Before his eyes
the change they make.
He's delighted and curious.

Its so fun to see.

And before I know it
with wondering eyes
a woman, she sees.
homegrown citizen
the colour of the trees.

The colours delight
And memories they make
even if they cause one
to pick up a rake.

Aware
Define:

• having knowledge or perception of a situation or fact.
  
• concerned and well-informed about a particular situation or development
  

Alive
I came to know
To be aware.

I am
Mindful of
the fact that
sensible though
I be.

That there is
a consciousness
greater than I.

And that
Consciousness
Is cognizant
of me.

And in my
growing I was
alerted to the fact
that this
consciousness
is
God.

And God
is always
Aware of me.

Hop on over to here and here to find more 31 day writers.  :)   Oh and Lisa from Canadian Homeschooler is doing a Canada series.   See the rest of my series here.

With my Sweetheart away this week, and needing to go to Guelph the other day to sell some rabbits, my son and I thought we would make a day of it and see some of the Guelph sites. We chose McCrae House and the river that ran nearby it.

www.greatwar.co.uk/poems/john-mccrae-in-flanders-fields-inspiration.htmJohn McCrae was a Guelph Resident and he was responsible for writing a poem that many people are very familiar with.   He was a young artillery officer and military doctor and one of the young men under his command died in the Battle of Ypres. 

Depending on who you believe, this young man's death was the inspiration for the poem, or it could have been the poppies growing, or it could have just been boredom speaking.  :)   Either way, his poem lives on.

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

The house was beautiful and the grounds were so well kept.  It was too bad it was so hot out, it would have been lovely to sit out there for a while and watch my lad look for spiders among the hedges.

Inside the museum we came upon this lovely map.   It was SO pretty.. I'm not sure that's the right word for it.  But it caught our eyes and we stood in front of it for quite a while looking it over really well. 

"Mom, why does it have all these place names?" 
"Why doesn't it look like our map at home?"
"Is it a real map or a fake one?".. he then started checking it over, my attention-to-detail lad, and noticed that the creases in the map weren't real creases and realized it was a replica.

John McCrae was part of the army, so we learned what the mess kit looked like.

We discovered and talked about how a man can have a close relationship with his horse and dog..."but mom, he really needed to have a cat!"

It was not a big museum and once we got past the map, we saw everything they had rather quickly.  There were other things to see, but these were the highlights for us.  If you ever have a chance to visit Guelph, take a peek inside!   On a nice day, bring a picnic lunch and enjoy the serene grounds.   $5 per person to get in, open Tues-Sun.

When we were done, we headed across the street to sit in the shade of some trees by the river.  The lad chased a young robin, and was stunned by the sight of a tree growing through a cement block.   He noted how it bent out the concrete.  It seemed a strong vigorous tree.  The goslings we saw were farther along then ours at home.

It was very restful sitting here, watching the water, listening to the sounds of people in the distance, "mom, would be even better if there was a big row of trees over there, then we wouldn't see the buildings, it would be even nicer then".   And it would have been, but it was still nice.

We then headed off to the Civic Museum, which I will post about another time.  :)

I have to admit it, I like poetry.  I like reading it with my boy, I like teaching him things to look out for in it but you know what I like most? 

The conversations.

Take for instance today, we read this poem written by  Robert Louis Stevenson.

I had thought about turning into a whole rhyming lesson, but when my boy smiled when I finished reading it, I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye, he burst into conversation.

"Mom, can you imagine it a family of otters got ahold of them"?
"Can you just seem them mom, smashing of the sails and using the boat parts as little tables to pass things back and forth"?

From that illustrious start we had a lovely conversation on just what might happen to those boats as they floated down the river the things they'd see, the mishaps they might have, the children they might meet.

IT WAS WONDERFUL.

And THAT my dear readers is WHY I love poetry.

Is it good to see the forms, to see how poetry is put together.. FOR SURE, but it's also good to let that stuff go and enjoy the thoughts and emotions that a good poem brings forth.   R.L. Stevenson wrote a poem that delighted my boy and gave us a good conversation...what more could you ask for?   :)

Today I started reading a book about William Cowper.   I chose this book to read because, as you know my dear readers, I like to do hymn studies and I recognized his name as a hymn writer.  I thought it would be neat to get to know more about him.

The first thing I learned was that he was an advocate for home education.

To that end he wrote a poem called the Tirocinium.

Doing a search on-line I found a copy of it as well.  :)   You can find it HERE.    It is a very long poem so I will be taking excerpts from it for you to enjoy.      I do encourage you to go back and read the whole poem through though.   Perhaps like me, you will find in it encouragement to continue your journey as one who keeps their child at home.  :)

Review of Schools by William Cowper.

It is not from his form, in which we trace
Strength join'd with beauty, dignity with grace,
That man, the master of this globe, derives
His right of empire over all that lives.
That form, indeed, the associate of a mind
Vast in its powers, ethereal in its kind,
That form, the labour of Almighty skill,
Framed for the service of a freeborn will,
Asserts precedence, and bespeaks control,
.......
For her the memory fills her ample page
With truths pour’d down from every distant age;
For her amasses an unbounded store,
The wisdom of great nations, now no more;
Though laden, not encumber’d with her spoil;
Laborious, yet unconscious of her toil;
When copiously supplied, then most enlarged;
Still to be fed, and not to be surcharged.
.......
For her the Judgment, umpire in the strife
That Grace and Nature have to wage through life,
Quick-sighted arbiter of good and ill,
Appointed sage preceptor to the Will,
Condemns, approves, and, with a faithful voice,
Guides the decision of a doubtful choice.
.......

Look where he will, the wonders God has wrought,
The wildest scorner of his Maker’s laws
Finds in a sober moment time to pause,
To press the important question on his heart,
“Why form’d at all, and wherefore as thou art?”
If man be what he seems, this hour a slave,
The next mere dust and ashes in the grave;
Endued with reason only to descry
His crimes and follies with an aching eye;
With passions, just that he may prove, with pain,
The force he spends against their fury vain;
And if, soon after having burnt, by turns,
......
Truths that the learn’d pursue with eager thought
Are not important always as dear-bought,
Proving at last, though told in pompous strains,
A childish waste of philosophic pains;
But truths on which depends our main concern,
That ‘tis our shame and misery not to learn,
Shine by the side of every path we tread
With such a lustre, he that runs may read.
......
Were all that Heaven required of human kind,
And all the plan their destiny design’d,
What none could reverence all might justly blame,
And man would breathe but for his Maker’s shame.
But reason heard, and nature well perused,
At once the dreaming mind is disabused.
If all we find possessing earth, sea, air,
Reflect His attributes who placed them there,
Fulfil the purpose, and appear design’d
Proofs of the wisdom of the all-seeing mind,
‘Tis plain the creature, whom he chose to invest
With kingship and dominion o’er the rest,
......
This once believed, ‘twere logic misapplied
To prove a consequence by none denied,
That we are bound to cast the minds of youth
Betimes into the mould of heavenly truth,
That taught of God they may indeed be wise,
Nor ignorantly wandering miss the skies.
In early days the conscience has in most
.....
What friends we sort with, or what books we read,
Our parents yet exert a prudent care
To feed our infant minds with proper fare;
And wisely store the nursery by degrees
With wholesome learning, yet acquired with ease.
Neatly secured from being soil’d or torn
Beneath a pane of thin translucent horn,
A book (to please us at a tender age
‘Tis call’d a book, though but a single page)
Presents the prayer the Saviour deign’d to teach,
Which children use, and parsons—when they preach.
Lisping our syllables, we scramble next
Through moral narrative, or sacred text;
And learn with wonder how this world began,
Who made, who marr’d, and who has ransom’d man:
Points which, unless the Scripture made them plain,
The wisest heads might agitate in vain.
......
Ingenious dreamer, in whose well-told tale
Sweet fiction and sweet truth alike prevail;
Whose humorous vein, strong sense, and simple style,
May teach the gayest, make the gravest smile;
Witty, and well employ’d, and, like thy Lord,
Speaking in parables his slighted word;
I name thee not, lest so despised a name
Should move a sneer at thy deserved fame;
......
And guides the Progress of the soul to God.
‘Twere well with most, if books that could engage
Their childhood pleased them at a riper age;
The man, approving what had charm’d the boy,
Would die at last in comfort, peace, and joy,
And not with curses on his heart, who stole
The gem of truth from his unguarded soul.
The stamp of artless piety impress’d
By kind tuition on his yielding breast,
The youth, now bearded and yet pert and raw,
Regards with scorn, though once received with awe;
And, warp’d into the labyrinth of lies,
That babblers, call’d philosophers, devise,
Blasphemes his creed, as founded on a plan
Replete with dreams, unworthy of a man.
Touch but his nature in its ailing part,
Assert the native evil of his heart,
His pride resents the charge, although the proof
Rise in his forehead, and seem rank enough:
Point to the cure, describe a Saviour’s cross
As God’s expedient to retrieve his loss,
......
Prayer to the winds, and caution to the waves;
Religion makes the free by nature slaves.
Priests have invented, and the world admired
What knavish priests promulgate as inspired;
Till Reason, now no longer overawed,
Resumes her powers, and spurns the clumsy fraud;
And, common sense diffusing real day,
The meteor of the Gospel dies away.
Such rhapsodies our shrewd discerning youth
Learn from expert inquirers after truth;
Whose only care, might truth presume to speak,
Is not to find what they profess to seek.
And thus, well tutor’d only while we share
A mother’s lectures and a nurse’s care;
And taught at schools much mythologic stuff,
But sound religion sparingly enough;
Our early notices of truth disgraced,
Soon lose their credit, and are all effaced.
Would you your son should be a sot or dunce,
Lascivious, headstrong, or all these at once;
That in good time the stripling’s finish’d taste
For loose expense and fashionable waste
Should prove your ruin, and his own at last;
Train him in public with a mob of boys,
Childish in mischief only and in noise,
Else of a mannish growth, and five in ten
In infidelity and lewdness men.
There shall he learn, ere sixteen winters old,
That authors are most useful pawn’d or sold;
That pedantry is all that schools impart,
......
And, as maturity of years comes on,
Made just the adept that you design’d your son;
......
Yes—ye are conscious; and on all the shelves
Your pupils strike upon have struck yourselves.
Or if, by nature sober, ye had then,
Boys as ye were, the gravity of men,
Ye knew at least, by constant proofs address’d
To ears and eyes, the vices of the rest.
But ye connive at what ye cannot cure,
And evils not to be endured endure,
Lest power exerted, but without success,
Should make the little ye retain still less.
Ye once were justly famed for bringing forth
Undoubted scholarship and genuine worth;
And in the firmament of fame still shines
A glory, bright as that of all the signs,
Of poets raised by you, and statesmen, and divines.
Peace to them all! those brilliant times are fled,
And no such lights are kindling in their stead.
Our striplings shine indeed, but with such rays
As set the midnight riot in a blaze;
......
Say, muse (for education made the song,
No muse can hesitate, or linger long),
What causes move us, knowing, as we must,
That these mémenageries all fail their trust,
To send our sons to scout and scamper there,
While colts and puppies cost us so much care?
Be it a weakness, it deserves some praise,
.......
As happy as we once, to kneel and draw
The chalky ring, and knuckle down at taw;
To pitch the ball into the grounded hat,
Or drive it devious with a dexterous pat;
The pleasing spectacle at once excites
Such recollection of our own delights,
That, viewing it, we seem almost to obtain
Our innocent sweet simple years again.
This fond attachment to the well-known place,
Whence first we started into life’s long race,
Maintains its hold with such unfailing sway,
We feel it e’en in age, and at our latest day.
Hark! how the sire of chits, whose future share
Of classic food begins to be his care,
With his own likeness placed on either knee,
Indulges all a father’s heartfelt glee;
And tells them, as he strokes their silver locks,
That they must soon learn Latin, and to box;
Then turning, he regales his listening wife
With all the adventures of his early life;
His skill in coachmanship, or driving chaise,
In bilking tavern-bills, and spouting plays;
What shifts he used, detected in a scrape,
How he was flogg’d, or had the luck to escape;
What sums he lost at play, and how he sold
Watch, seals, and all—till all his pranks are told.
Retracing thus his frolics (‘tis a name
That palliates deeds of folly and of shame),
He gives the local bias all its sway;
Resolves that where he play’d his sons shall play,
And destines their bright genius to be shown
Just in the scene where he display’d his own.
The meek and bashful boy will soon be taught
To be as bold and forward as he ought;
The rude will scuffle through with ease enough,
Great schools suit best the sturdy and the rough.
Ah, happy designation, prudent choice,
The event is sure; expect it, and rejoice!
Soon see your wish fulfill’d in either child,
The pert made perter, and the tame made wild.
The great indeed, by titles, riches, birth,
Excused the incumbrance of more solid worth,
.........
But families of less illustrious fame,
Whose chief distinction is their spotless name,
Whose heirs, their honours none, their income small,
Must shine by true desert, or not at all,
What dream they of, that, with so little care
They risk their hopes, their dearest treasure, there?
They dream of little Charles or William graced
With wig prolix, down flowing to his waist;
They see the attentive crowds his talents draw,
They hear him speak—the oracle of law.
The father, who designs his babe a priest,
Dreams him episcopally such at least;
And, while the playful jockey scours the room
Briskly, astride upon the parlour broom,
In fancy sees him more superbly ride
In coach with purple lined, and mitres on its side.
Events improbable and strange as these,
Which only a parental eye foresees,
A public school shall bring to pass with ease.
But how? resides such virtue in that air,
As must create an appetite for prayer?
And will it breathe into him all the zeal
That candidates for such a prize should feel,
To take the lead and be the foremost still
In all true worth and literary skill?
“Ah, blind to bright futurity, untaught
The knowledge of the World, and dull of thought!
Church-ladders are not always mounted best
By learned clerks and Latinists profess’d.
..........
A friend, whate’er he studies or neglects,
Shall give him consequence, heal all defects.
His intercourse with peers and sons of peers--
.......
What need of Homer’s verse or Tully’s prose,
Sweet interjections! if he learn but those?
Let reverend churls his ignorance rebuke,
.....
Depend not much upon your golden dream;
For Providence, that seems concern’d to exempt
The hallow’d bench from absolute contempt,
In spite of all the wrigglers into place,
Still keeps a seat or two for worth and grace;
And therefore ‘tis, that, though the sight be rare,
We sometimes see a Lowth or Bagot there.
Besides, school friendships are not always found,
Though fair in promise, permanent and sound;
The most disinterested and virtuous minds,
In early years connected, time unbinds,
New situations give a different cast
Of habit, inclination, temper, taste;
And he, that seem’d our counterpart at first,
Soon shows the strong similitude reversed.
......
A boyish friendship may so soon decline,
‘Twere wiser sure to inspire a little heart
With just abhorrence of so mean a part,
Than set your son to work at a vile trade
For wages so unlikely to be paid.
........
Boys, once on fire with that contentious zeal,
Feel all the rage that female rivals feel;
The prize of beauty in a woman’s eyes
Not brighter than in theirs the scholar’s prize.
The spirit of that competition burns
With all varieties of ill by turns;
Each vainly magnifies his own success,
Resents his fellow’s, wishes it were less,
Exults in his miscarriage if he fail,
Deems his reward too great if he prevail,
And labours to surpass him day and night,
.......
And you are staunch indeed in learning’s cause,
If you can crown a discipline, that draws
Such mischiefs after it, with much applause.
Connexion form’d for interest, and endear’d
.......
Great schools rejected then, as those that swell
Beyond a size that can be managed well,
Shall royal institutions miss the bays,
And small academies win all the praise?
Force not my drift beyond its just intent,
I praise a school as Pope a government;
So take my judgment in his language dress’d,
“Whate’er is best administer’d is best.”
Few boys are born with talents that excel,
But all are capable of living well;
Then ask not, whether limited or large;
But, watch they strictly, or neglect their charge?
If anxious only that their boys may learn,
While morals languish, a despised concern,
The great and small deserve one common blame,
Different in size, but in effect the same.
.......
Your son come forth a prodigy of skill;
As, wheresoever taught, so form’d, he will;
The pedagogue, with self-complacent air,
Claims more than half the praise as his due share.
But if, with all his genius, he betray,
Not more intelligent than loose and gay,
Such vicious habits as disgrace his name,
Threaten his health, his fortune, and his fame;
Though want of due restraint alone have bred
The symptoms that you see with so much dread;
Unenvied there, he may sustain alone
The whole reproach, the fault was all his own.
Oh! ‘tis a sight to be with joy perused,
By all whom sentiment has not abused;
......
A father blest with an ingenuous son,
Father, and friend, and tutor, all in one.
.....
Then why resign into a stranger’s hand
A task as much within your own command,
That God and nature, and your interest too,
Seem with one voice to delegate to you?
......
But though the joys he hopes beneath your roof
Bid fair enough to answer in the proof,
Harmless, and safe, and natural, as they are,
........
Of filial frankness lost, and love grown faint,
Which, oft neglected, in life’s waning years
A parent pours into regardless ears.
Like caterpillars, dangling under trees
By slender threads, and swinging in the breeze,
.........
The mind and heart of every sprightly boy;
Imaginations noxious and perverse,
Which admonition can alone disperse.
The encroaching nuisance asks a faithful hand,
Patient, affectionate, of high command,
To check the procreation of a breed
......
Watch his emotions, and control their tide;
And levying thus, and with an easy sway,
A tax of profit from his very play,
To impress a value, not to be erased,
.....
And is he well content his son should find
No nourishment to feed his growing mind,
But conjugated verbs and nouns declined?
......
Perhaps a father, blest with any brains,
Would deem it no abuse, or waste of pains,
To improve this diet, at no great expense,
With savoury truth and wholesome common sense;
To lead his son, for prospects of delight,
To some not steep, though philosophic, height,
Thence to exhibit to his wondering eyes
.......
To show him in an insect or a flower
Such microscopic proof of skill and power
As, hid from ages past, God now displays
.......
To teach his heart to glow with generous flame,
Caught from the deeds of men of ancient fame;
And, more than all, with commendation due,
To set some living worthy in his view,
Whose fair example may at once inspire
A wish to copy what he must admire.
Such knowledge, gain’d betimes, and which appears,
Though solid, not too weighty for his years,
Sweet in itself, and not forbidding sport,
.......
Art thou a man professionally tied,
With all thy faculties elsewhere applied,
Too busy to intend a meaner care
Than how to enrich thyself, and next thine heir;
Or art thou (as, though rich, perhaps thou art)
.......
His mind inform’d, his morals undefiled.
Safe under such a wing, the boy shall show
......
So sure to spoil him, and so near at hand;
A point secured, if once he be supplied
With some such Mentor always at his side.
Are such men rare? perhaps they would abound
Were occupation easier to be found,
Were education, else so sure to fail,
Conducted on a manageable scale,
And schools, that have outlived all just esteem,
Exchanged for the secure domestic scheme.--
But, having found him, be thou duke or earl,
Show thou hast sense enough to prize the pearl,
And, as thou wouldst the advancement of thine heir
In all good faculties beneath his care,
Respect, as is but rational and just,
A man deem’d worthy of so dear a trust.
.......
But recollect that he has sense, and feels
And that, possessor of a soul refined,
An upright heart, and cultivated mind,
His post not mean, his talents not unknown,
He deems it hard to vegetate alone.
And, if admitted at thy board he sit,
Account him no just mark for idle wit;
Offend not him, whom modesty restrains
From repartee, with jokes that he disdains;
Much less transfix his feelings with an oath;
Nor frown, unless he vanish with the cloth.--
And, trust me, his utility may reach
To more than he is hired or bound to teach;
Much trash unutter’d, and some ills undone,
Through reverence of the censor of thy son.
......
The world accounts an honourable man,
Because forsooth thy courage has been tried,
And stood the test, perhaps on the wrong side;
Though thou hadst never grace enough to prove
That any thing but vice could win thy love;--
Or hast thou a polite, card-playing wife,
......
Here Nature plead, show mercy to thy son.
Saved from his home, where every day brings forth
Some mischief fatal to his future worth,
Find him a better in a distant spot,
Within some pious pastor’s humble cot,
.......
Where all the attention of his faithful host,
Discreetly limited to two at most,
May raise such fruits as shall reward his care,
And not at last evaporate in air:
Where, stillness aiding study, and his mind
Serene, and to his duties much inclined,
Not occupied in day dreams, as at home,
Of pleasures past, or follies yet to come,
His virtuous toil may terminate at last
In settled habit and decided taste.--
.......
Forgetful that the foot may crush the trust;
And, while on public nurseries they rely,
......
Yet make their progeny their dearest care
(Whose hearts will ache, once told what ills may reach
Their offspring, left upon so wild a beach),
......
Whose character yet undebauch’d, retains
Two-thirds of all the virtue that remains,
Who, wise yourselves, desire your sons should learn
Your wisdom and your ways—to you I turn.
....
Prove, rather than impeach, the just remark:
As here and there a twinkling star descried
Serves but to show how black is all beside.
Now look on him, whose very voice in tone
Just echoes thine, whose features are thine own,
And stroke his polish’d cheek of purest red,
And lay thine hand upon his flaxen head,
And say, My boy, the unwelcome hour is come,
When thou, transplanted from thy genial home,
Must find a colder soil and bleaker air,
And trust for safety to a stranger’s care;
What character, what turn thou wilt assume
From constant converse with I know not whom;
Who there will court thy friendship, with what views,
And, artless as thou art, whom thou wilt choose;
Though much depends on what thy choice shall be,
....
Of natural pity, send him not to school.
No—guard him better. Is he not thine own,
Thyself in miniature, thy flesh, thy bone?
And hopest thou not (‘tis every father’s hope)
That, since thy strength must with thy years elope,
And thou wilt need some comfort to assuage
Health’s last farewell, a staff of thine old age,
That then, in recompence of all thy cares,
Thy child shall show respect to thy grey hairs,
Befriend thee, of all other friends bereft,
And give thy life its only cordial left?
Aware then how much danger intervenes,
To compass that good end, forecast the means.
His heart, now passive, yields to thy command;
Secure it thine, its key is in thine hand;
.....,
One comfort yet shall cheer thine aged heart,
Howe’er he slight thee, thou hast done thy part.
Oh, barbarous! wouldst thou with a Gothic hand
.....
Survey our schools and colleges, and see
A sight not much unlike my simile.
From education, as the leading cause,
The public character its colour draws;
Thence the prevailing manners take their cast,
Extravagant or sober, loose or chaste.
And though I would not advertise them yet,
Nor write on each— This Building to be Let ,
Unless the world were all prepared to embrace
A plan well worthy to supply their place;
Yet, backward as they are, and long have been,
To cultivate and keep the morals clean
(Forgive the crime), I wish them, I confess,
Or better managed, or encouraged less.

William Cowper

Today's Poem had us doing a A-B-A-A-B pattern for rhyming.

I read this poem to my lad and he looked all confuddled.
I tilted my head at him as an invitation to query so of course he did.  :)

"Mom, what does that mean.. only the back of him active?"

So I showed him this video.
And he was "OH!"

It's just a simple poem but the rhyming is in a different pattern which makes it interesting, and hey... who doesn't smile at a happy dog running around?   They can seem to be so full of glee.

The simplicity allows the reader to consider the actions of the dog and how simple they are and grin in remembrance (at least it does me).

When I asked what other words she could have used, or even what words words rhymed my lad thought of ground hogs...and how a dog could be sniffing after them, even as he said "that wouldn't fit in the poem though mom" and "it wouldn't be as funny if it didn't rhyme".

I think he has a point don't you?

Today's poetry lesson with my boy was really simple.

I read the poem.
He told me it rhymed.
I asked if he could hear anything different in the t-words.
No.

I then asked....do you know what a ptarmigan is?
No.

It's a bird bud.   Lives in the north.

Oh.. okay.
So they don't like to sit in trees mom?

I asked him to come over and look at the poem with me and tell what what is odd about the poem.  Could he even read it?

It took him two readings to figure it out.

"MOM!   Why do they keep adding those "P's" to the words with the letter T?
Don't they know how confusing that is?"

Hmm... I said... looking at him and smiling... what do you think the point of the poem is?

"The P is useless mom".

Yup... in these words the P is pretty useless.   Good point eh?

"That makes it a silly poem mom" and he walked away shaking his head and smiling.

A good thing that is it not?   Especially on a day when everyone is tired.

Some facts about the Ptarmigan

It's a ground dwelling bird, the smallest of the grouse family.  It resides permanently in the alpine regions and is an herbivores, eating leaves, seeds, buds etc.    

It has a brown summer plumage and a white winter one.

They form single season monogamous relationship, the male guarding the female over a shallow scrape in the ground with 2-8 chicks being born per clutch.

So indeed...as the poem says.. they don't like to sit in trees.  :)

oday my son and I did a lesson from Poetry Patterns and Themes.    The Lesson was on Thanksgiving Poetry.

"Thanksgiving Poetry challenges students to record their feelings in a beautiful and inspiring way in 12 lines.  Each line bgins with one of the letters in the word "Thanksgiving".  It be written as an expression of thankfulness or as a prayer.   

You can use old language (with thee's and thou's),
If writing it as a form of prayer, try to encourage good prayer form.  With an opening and a closing.

If writing it as an expression try to encourage an ending that proves a good ending for the poem.  

Points that might be of concern
1. Does it have to rhyme asked my son.  No.  It does not have to rhyme
2. Can I just list off things?   No, be descriptive and try to make sentences.
3. Does it have to be a prayer?   No, it can be you describing things that you are thankful for.
4. Can you help me with spelling?   Sure, no problem.  :)
5. Brainstorming descriptive words and objects should prove to be helpful.
6. You may wish to have your student illustrate their poem.

My son asked me not to share his poem with you today, so I thought I would share mine.   :)

Foul Shot 
by Edwin A. Hoey

With two 60s stuck on the scoreboard 

And two seconds hanging on the clock, 
The solemn boy in the center of eyes, 
Squeezed by silence, 
Seeks out the line with his feet, 
Soothes his hands along his uniform, 
Gently drums the ball against the floor, 
Then measures the waiting net, 
Raises the ball on his right hand, 
Balances it with his left, 
Calms it with fingertips, 
Breathes,
Crouches,
Waits, 
And then through a stretching of stillness, 
Nudges it upwards.

The ball
Slides up and out, 
Lands, 
Leans, 
Wobbles, 
Wavers, 
Hesitates,
Plays it coy
Until every face begs with unsounding screams--
And then
                    And then
                                            And then,

Right before ROAR-UP,
Drives down and through. 

Step one: after reading poem ask this: What is the poem all about?

My non-team sports mined child had NO clue what this poem was all about.   So I found this video of a foul shot and then it made sense to him.  :)

Ask these questions:
What do the two 60's mean?  (tied game)
Two seconds hanging what does that mean? (game is almost over).
Why is the boy wiping his hands on his clothes? (calm himself, soothe)
How do you think the people watching felt as the ball went up in the air?
        Why?   What words are used to tell you this?
             (hesitates, exasperates, plays it coy)

What does it mean to play it coy? (to show reluctance in revealing what one will do)
Do you really think that a ball can play it coy?   When they use human terms to describe what a non-human object is doing it's called personification.

What do you think the ROAR UP is all about?   Why do you think the author puts those words in capital letters?   How to you think it would sound?   What might people be doing?

You can dissect the poem as well looking for items such as action words and accompanying nouns such as "Seeks out... the line".

Pay attention to how the poem is written, the line breaks, the in and out to length and spacing of the lines.

  We are continuing to work our way through the book "Poetry Patterns and Themes".

Today's lesson was on Animal Prayer.

In this type of poem you start with the animal, you state the environment that the animal lives in and then have the animal make a request.    Because we take our faith seriously, I asked my lad if he thought animals could pray?   or if we would going to do a prayer should we have thankfulness to God for what he has given us?