Atmosphere

(Part 2 of The Not Supermom Series.)

The Deputy Headmistress directed me toward this post at Dominion Family, and I have come to trust the DHM’s recommendations.

Writing on the importance of educating both mind and soul, Cindy says:

“This does not mean I shy away from rigorous study. I love rigorous study. It is just that I don’t confuse taking a test with learning. I try not to forget the things that can’t be measured: poetry in the heart, deep discussions, time for thoughtful reflections, love of beauty, the fellowship of suffering, the euphoric feeling of using the right word, honest toil, gentle breezes and warm days.”

Beautiful, and right on the mark.

This is exactly what I am getting at when I talk about striving for a joyful atmosphere in our home. As Cindy points out, Charlotte Mason has a great deal to say about the importance of “atmosphere” in education: Education itself, she says, is an atmosphere; it is a life. “Atmosphere,” writes Michele Quigley,

“is many faceted, from the actual physical aspects of the home to the tone and spirit of family life. In creating an atmosphere of learning, the child has easy access to the materials needed. Books are put where the child can get at them, art supplies are easily reached and musical instruments placed in a special but accessible area. There are beautiful art prints to look at and beautiful music with which to inspire the mind and soul.”

There it is again, that mind/soul connection that Cindy spoke of in her post. I am reminded of Madeleine L’Engle’s Austin family (Meet the Austins, The Moon by Night, A Ring of Endless Light—which last is one of my three Most Deeply Moving picks from Semicolon’s recent booklist). Life in the Austin household means symphonies booming in the background during housecleaning, family in-jokes about literature and art, animated dinner-table discussions about The Big Questions of Life, evening sing-alongs, a house furnished in books, and car rides punctuated by quotes from ancient philosophers. I wonder, sometimes, just how much my own idea of family life was shaped by my multiple readings of that series during adolescence. I reread them all last winter and found myself grinning at the depiction of an atmosphere I’ve been striving toward in my own home for some ten years. Well looky there, I thought. Here I’ve been trying to Meet the Austins in my own living room, and I didn’t even realize it.

I gave a talk once about atmosphere in the Little House books, for after encountering Charlotte Mason’s writings, it struck me that a large part of what appeals to me about Laura Ingalls Wilder’s books is the atmosphere that suffuses the Ingalls home—no matter which little house they lived in. Here’s an excerpt from the talk:

The atmosphere of love and family bonding is so strong, so pervasive, that when you read about this family, you want to be a part of it. And while I’m sure Ma and Pa Ingalls had plenty of off days that didn’t make it into the books, the warm, loving atmosphere of the home they created was consistent enough enough to inspire their daughter to put her childhood memories down on paper so that they would never be lost. Look at the things that stick in Laura’s mind all the way to her 60s:

—Pa ruffling up his hair, playing mad dog;
—Pa telling stories as he greased his traps or made bullets—stories Laura never forgot;
—Ma making vanity cakes for Laura & Mary’s party;
—Ma letting the girls share the grated carrot used to color the butter on churning day;
—Pa’s music, right down to the words of the songs he sang;
—Ma putting aside her work to play games with the girls during the terrible three days when Pa was lost in a blizzard.

That last one is one I think about a lot. Imagine how hard it was for Caroline to keep calm and cheerful under those circumstances. I think she must have seen it as her duty to maintain that atmosphere of serenity and cheer for her children, lest they be consumed by fear for Pa’s safety. How would I measure up in the same circumstances? Would I allow my worry to let me grow sharp with the children? Or would I throw myself wholeheartedly into the task—because it is work—of maintaining an atmosphere of love no matter what?

We all know how hard it can be to maintain that atmosphere. A mother’s mood is the air her family breathes. When I become cross, impatient, distracted, so does everyone else. My mood can poison the atmosphere or sweeten it: it is up to me.


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Poetry Friday

Kelly over at Big A little a started a custom of sharing favorite poems on our blogs every Friday. For my contribution this week, I have something special: a poem written by 12-year-old Agnes G., which her mother shared with readers at The Cottage Garden yesterday.

The sunset shattered into shards of stars,
A million fish within a velvet sea,
A million angels in a heaven of clouds,
A million eyes, all staring out at me.

The moon was a lady, dancing, whirling
A tarentella through nighttime air,
Dropping her moonlight, streaming, swirling,
Dropping her moonbeams everywhere.

The clouds dispersed in multitudes. I saw
The star formations, children of the sky,
The wind did whistle in the dusky boughs,
The dry leaves sang their songs as they flew by.

The moon was a lantern, calmly keeping,
Her vigil o’er the stars by night,
Shedding her moonbeams, sobbing, weeping,
Shedding her tears of silver light.

At last the rosy fingers of the dawn,
Touched the horizon, turning it to blue,
And Oh! I miss the little glinting stars,
Although the day is beautiful and new.

For the sun is a brand whose ceaseless burning
Illuminates all of the daytime sky,
But the moon is gentler, humbly turning
The nighttime over to the stars on high.


Other Poetry Friday contributions: Big A little a with some hilarious stanzas from Thelonius Monster’s Sky-High Fly Pie, a book I can’t wait to check out, Chicken Spaghetti, Farm School, A Fuse #8 Production, Scholar’s Blog, Mungo’s Mathoms, A Chair, A Fireplace, and a Tea Cozy, Blog from the Windowsill, and The Simple and the Ordinary.

Five Is the New Black

Or so says my husband, that renowned fashionista. Yet another of our fabulous neighbors was dropping off dinner yesterday, and of course she had to stop awhile to coo over the bairn.

“Oh, she makes me want another one!” said this mother of four.

“Yeah, you can join the Five Club!” I told her. My family is one of only two in the neighborhood to have five children. The other family moved here about six months ago, and between the two of us (or ten of us, to be precise), we’ve managed to completely destroy the neat symmetry of the neighborhood phone directory, which has column space for a maximum of four children per family.

Fabulous Mother of Four laughed and said, “I don’t know…”

“Go for it,” said Scott. “After all, five is the new black.”

Who knew I was so chic?