Too Short For Anything Less

Yesterday was nasty and raw, full of little spitting flakes and an incessant, indecisive wind that wanted to switch direction every half-dozen seconds or so. Both wood stoves were pressed into action, and although I was not particularly pleased to be dipping into next year’s firewood stash, I was grateful that at least I had next years firewood stash to dip into. Without it, we’d probably have been a couple coffee tables short by this morning. Or maybe the damnable piano, already relegated to the back shed where every so often we hear the tinkle of keys as one of the cats strolls across it. Yeah, I bet that sucker’d burn real good.

Mondays are when Rye’s mentor friend Erik comes for his weekly visit. As such, by 9-ish Rye and Erik were deep in the woods, and so too Penny and Fin, who also struck out into the wild. Or what passes for wild in Cabot, Vermont. And where was I while my family was off galavanting across the land? Why, I was right here, shivering dutifully in my office, waiting for the stove heat to wend its way to my small, tucked-away corner of the house. Yes, it’s true: My devotion to my family is nothing short of inspiring.

A couple hours later, both parties returned, arms laden with treasures and heads full of stories. For their part, Penny and Fin had found ramps, fiddleheads, and mint. They’d also found a stream bank of solid clay, from which we will one day construct an outdoor bread oven. Oh, and a grouse nest, containing a clutch of eggs. Erik and Rye brought home a motley assortment of goodies, including pheasant back mushrooms, wild nettles, and a few logs of skunk poop, full of iridescent green insect bits. Two of the three were cooked on a rocket stove they built into the ground, before being consumed with gusto; the other was poked at with sticks in an attempt to ascertain what other goodies might be embedded within.

I know that like most people, I often fail to acknowledge and in some cases even recognize the many things for which I should be grateful. But one of the things that rarely escapes my attention is the simple fact that my sons are able to spend so much of their time in this manner, absorbing the particular knowledge of their surroundings. Such opportunities are increasingly rare in an era of standardized, homogenized education that has no particular allegiance to place.

I also know that not everyone – probably not even everyone who reads this – shares the same beliefs regarding how their children should be spending their days, and what they should be learning. That is ok. In many ways, it is probably good: The world needs lots of different people, sharing lots of different knowledge.

My belief is not that every child should be educated in the exact manner of my boys, but rather that we should all be  afforded the freedom to find a path for our children that fills us with that sense of gratitude. Because let’s face it: Life’s way too short for anything less.