It wasn't my intention to take a week long break from blogging. It just happened.
For part of the past week we were out of town. The boys distributed learning school sponsored a trip for the students and their families to visit Barkerville. Founded in the mid-1860s this mining town was once (according to the brochure) "the largest city north of Chicago and west of San Francisco." As usually happens with towns in northern British Columbia whose economies are based on resources (*cough* My Town *cough*) eventually the boom gave way to bust. Barkerville became a ghost town, and in 1958 it was designated a heritage/museum site.
We visited Barkerville years ago, but this time the boys had more of an appreciation for the old-timey fun of riding in a stage coach, watching a blacksmith at work, attending a one-room schoolhouse, attending a theatrical performance (insert jazz hands here), panning for gold, and learning a few words in Chinese. Though both Zarf and Klaxon think the best parts of the trip were the Jian swords they purchased in the Barkerville's China Town, watching Smallville episodes back at the motel and running wild up and down the streets of Barkerville with other weapon-toting boys.
Mr Wrath and I enjoyed hanging out with the other homeschool families enrolled with our distributed learning academy, which is administered by a public school board. Because of the nature of our school (secular) this was one of the few homeschool gatherings where I wasn't concerned I'd offend someone with my crush on Stephen Jay Gould. I could speak of Darwin and evolution and natural selection without risk of social censure. Our eternal damnation.
En route for home we stopped for the night in the Big City to enjoy a few hours of crass materialism, unchecked capitalism, and the hotel pool. After four days away, we were happy to get home to our dog, our beds and our washing machine (okay, maybe I'm alone in this sentiment).
• • • • • •
After I typed this last bit, I stood up to stretch my legs. My thighs ache from a morning of gardening. In particular, digging up, and re-laying the stone pathway through the garden plot to the faucet. I walked to the window, to see if it's still raining and spotted two hummingbirds at the feeder. After a brutish winter, a late spring, and cooler-than-usual temperatures, there are very few blossoms around for the hummingbirds. I'm glad at least a few have found our feeder.
The rain has brought a smile to my face. For one thing, it helps stave off the threat of forest fire. Watching the news about the Slave Lake fire has brought home the risk we take by living in a small town surrounded by forest. The rain also gives me an excuse to abstain from the Canadian ritual of spending Victoria Day doing yard work. My thighs. My burning thighs!
Alas the rain does mean I can't truly enjoy the bistro table Mr Wrath's parents bought us for our birthdays:
I want Mr Wrath to buy a beret and role play being a flirty Parisian waiter who serves me red wine, and baguettes with expensive, smelly cheeses. So far he refuses. Harumph.