Mystery School Monday: Bee with me.

We kicked off this homeschool week with the dawning of the New Wind Moon.  April's cold breeze is intermittently ferrying snow flakes between budding trees yet spring is undeniably in the air.  There's nary a peep of "I Hate Mondays!" at the Warthog School, in fact, it is Baanko's favorite day of the week thanks to what she has deemed "Mystery School Monday".  Emulating a friend she made on last week's nature walk she showed up to the table bright eyed and bushy tailed - ready to make magic.

I had sketchy notes about the wind moon in my folder, words like; inhalation, inspiration  (via poetry in particular), and intention.  I had the ecoliteracy principle "making the invisible, visible" underlined and a list of project ideas to explore just that kind of magic; kites, wind chimes, and bubbles.  I had a loose lesson plan to ride this moon cycle all the way to the doorstep of our next seasonal festival - May Day.  After winter's long nap we need activities to re-awaken and engage our all of senses in time to really enjoy our annual "5 Senses Feast" on May 1st. 


Nudged by routine, Baanko and I started the morning with intention not just for the day but for the whole new 28 day lunar cycle.  We added to our magic spell-ing books the latin root inspirare and explored the beauty and power of poetic language and rhyming words.  From Dr. Seuss to Emily Dickinson it is no news to a child that expressing oneself through either gorgeous and grandiose imagery or rollicking rhythm and rhyme is the secret to casting a spell.  They feel the natural enchantment of poetry and follow it like a darting dragon fly, their own creativity being drawn out of them along the way.


With Earth Day celebrations awaiting us at week's end as well as the fast approaching deadline for public comment period on the EPA's decision about bee-killing pesticides we found ourselves at the table with Emily Dickinson and her appreciation of bees. We read and re-read several times, “Bee, I’m expecting you!”

Bee! I'm expecting you!
Was saying yesterday
To somebody you know
That you were due -

The frogs got home last week -
Are settled, and at work -
Birds, mostly back -
The clover warm and thick -

You'll get my letter by
The seventeenth; Reply
Or better, be with me -
Yours, Fly.

Baanko’s reflections were about expectation and her thoughtful words stung a little as they initiated me into her perspective.  She focused on why the bee wasn't back yet.  A reality that I know too well could come to pass along with all of its implications to the food supply.  Sticking to David Sobel's suggestion "no catastrophies until grade 4" I've sheltered her from the realities of extinction - both the bees and our own.  Daily I see the wisdom of Sobel's protective bubble - her natural affinity for life really deserves more time to wonder and sing in concert with the meadow.  Through our nature explorations she revels in what are essential nutrients for a seven year old: feelings of kinship, seeing and being seen, and mattering to those with whom you share in community so much so that your cycles are anticipated and expected. 


Baanko's world is a beautiful place in which everything, all of it, is magic.  I don't think she would be a bit surprised if on one of our walks in the forest we stumbled onto Baba Yaga's house spinning and dancing about on its chicken legs.  I also think such an event would be on par, regarding its ability to provoke awe and wonder, with our recent experience of the cat tails near the pond all releasing their fluff in unison.  Were we caught in the midst of nature's miraculous process of wind pollination or was Mother Holle up in the sky shaking out her down pillows again?  It was legitimately up for debate.  For her natural magic and fairy tale magic are still one in the same.
   
I sighed as we walked (well, she skipped) to mail our impassioned pleas for the bees.  If only it were as easy as performing the type of magic portrayed in fairy tales to make a love spell for the masses, one large enough to save it all: the bees, the butterflies, the breeze, amen. 

I held back what I felt rise in my soul as I dropped the letters in the box.  My favorite words from Emily Dickinson are not the ones I'm willing to share with her.  Not yet.

"Life is a spell so exquisite that everything conspires to break it."