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Getting High in the Homeschool

3:59 PM - Jan. 30, 2007 - Wild Thoughts {1} - Add to the Wildness

So Dave gets a phone call around 11:00 this morning. It's his buddy from work, a guy called Goose. "So, whatchya doin' today?"

Dave: "Not much. Just gotta take my in-laws' truck back, since I got mine back together."

Goose: "Oh, yeah. Anything on this afternoon?"

Dave: "Nope, not really."

Goose: "This is Goose."

Dave: "Uh, yeah. I know."

Goose: "I'm going to be at the Shoal Lake airport at 1:00...."

Dave: Scrambles into action.

Goose, you see, has his pilot's license, and the Shoal Lake airport (a small collection of sheds that could pass for a mid-sized farmyard) contains a little four-seater plane. And Dave, long ago in a galaxy far away, promised to finagle his wife a plane ride for her birthday. That was last August.

So we drop off the in-laws' truck. Then we boot 'er north. An hour later, we meet up with a quiet, friendly guy in a small waiting room. Behind the desk is an English farmer who also happens to give flying lessons. On the walls are screen-printed maps of the Battle of Britain and the World War II Allied bombers. Over in a corner is a poem, the poem one expects to see in a tiny outpost airport staffed by an old British flyer: High Flight.

I pause a moment, recalling a picture in an old portfolio, and I feel misty for a second. "Hey, girls," I say. "Come here. See this poem? I have a picture about it that was drawn by your great-grandmother."

Then the potty break is over, and I'm assured that it's safe to proceed onward and upward. Happy birthday to me! The girls and I go out to the plane with Goose. We buckle the kids in the tiny back seat, and I tell them, "It's like a race car. And that's what it's going to feel like when we take off." They giggle and squeal with excitement.

For forty minutes, we sail across the serene winter skies, while the girls holler and exclaim with every new sight and every dip of the wing. I let them have the camera, and they take pictures of wings, of the pilot, of Mommy, of the plane's ceiling, of each other making silly faces. I can't stop grinning either.

We soar over our little farmstead. I look down at all my cumulative frustrations -- the whole 25 acres -- and I think, We're just not doing so bad. But, man, that's an ugly burnt-up wrecked truck in the yard. Just a standard observation that goes with our place.

We turn further south, and we pass over my favourite place in the world -- the ravine a mile and a half east of my parents' farm. We circle the 100-year-old farmhouse, and my dad waves from out beside the tractor. We circle again, and Goose tells the girls, "We'll wave back this time!" The plane wiggles, and the girls -- of course -- squeal.

"Okay, here we go," says Goose, and we bank north again, gaining altitude and speed. He shows me the gauges and explains how far out we are from the airport and how to find it. I look out at the beautiful patterns on the frozen world -- the snow with its scudding drifts really is like a great quilt from up here. The plane gently rocks in light winds like a small boat on the lake, and I smile with the peace of it.

When we get back, I watch the wheel touch tarmac and feel the jolt of regular life returning. It's the boys' turn, and although Dave has offered to let me hog both rides, I can't deprive him. "It's okay, you go. You'll love it, honey."

Of course, when he gets back, I find out that he did most of the driving.

Monkeys in the B.C. Rainforest

10:39 PM - Oct. 30, 2006 - Wild Thoughts {1} - Add to the Wildness

We stopped just outside Chilliwack at Bridal Veil Falls. The kids got out, looked around, and went, "Wow! Rainforest!" Instantly, everybody had to be a lemur. Zoboomafoo, you know. They explored every nook and cranny along the trail. We found:

A giant stump that we could all fit inside.

A tree with ferns growing up it.

Really big Douglas firs.

And, of course, the falls.

Spazzerific leaped like a lemur the entire way down the 10-minute walk back to the truck. When I caught up to him, I found him hanging from a tree. Ten-year-olds. Good grief.

© Copyright 2005, 2006 Lazy Creek Online. This blog content is not authorized for reproduction outside of the HomeschoolBlogger.com hosting site and Lazy Creek websites. Violations may be reported to Cathi-Lyn Dyck at: www.homeschoolblogger.com/Lazycreek/

The Cross-Country Journey, Continued (Finally!!)

11:29 PM - Oct. 20, 2006 - Wild Thoughts {0} - Add to the Wildness

Okay, so I finally sorted and uploaded the photos to illustrate to you the extremes of my beautiful homeland. In one day, we went from a snowy morning in the Rockies to the summer breezes of the Okanagan Valley.

We were fortunate to find an RV park right on the edge of Lake Okanagan in Peachland. We were even more fortunate to encounter what I'm beginning to think is a trend -- new Christian friends just the next door down! Unlike the young family we met in Yellowstone, we found some highly adoptable grandparents this time. Peter and Doreen refreshed us with their conversation and shared an evening of singing with us. Interestingly, when we sang, even the TV in the site behind us went quiet. It seemed like the whole campground stopped to listen to the children and their harmonies.

We spent our first morning at Peachland walking on the shore. Although we didn't see the legendary Ogopogo lake monster, we did get to admire the view of the Lesser Tree Hickasaurus.

The drive between Peachland and Summerland is remarkably Mediterranean, with vineyards scattered on arid, sunny hills and a winding highway that follows the water. One B&B fit itself perfectly into the setting.

We toured the Dickinson Family Orchard, where the kids were able to pick pears right off the trees. Mrs. Dickinson allowed us to go right in and explore, so we measured the distance between the trees, looked at the irrigation setup and observed the combination of mulch and grass for root cover. And the kids ate pears. I had a nice chat with Mrs. D. about the way farming goes, and the struggle for small family farms. Apparently they have all the same problems, only prettier surroundings. So if you're ever out that way, look for the Dickinson Orchard signs on the highway and buy some fresh fruit.

Interestingly, the Kokanee salmon run up the creeks from the lake year-round, so we had plenty of opportunity to observe them in the clear streams near the campground. Watching the behaviour of these tiny fish came in hand later on, when we stared down a hundred feet at the torrent of Hell's Gate on the Fraser River. The only one who couldn't see the fish was the four-year-old, understandably.

The fish were best to see at Hardy Falls, a beautiful location for its own sake. A walk trail led up along the creek, crossing back and forth over the rapids several times. The run ended at the falls, surrounded by towering gorge walls.

Next time: Monkeys sighted in rainforest!

© Copyright 2005, 2006 Lazy Creek Online. This blog content is not authorized for reproduction outside of the HomeschoolBlogger.com hosting site and Lazy Creek websites. Violations may be reported to Cathi-Lyn Dyck at: www.homeschoolblogger.com/Lazycreek/

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