We hear all the time that in an unschooled life, no two days look the same.
"What's a typical day like?" And the answer is usually, of course, that there really isn't one.
Sometimes I think about that, and feel that we often have pretty 'regular' sort of days. I mean, they're not crazily different Every Single Day.
But they're also not predictable, not required, and not ordinarily mapped out, either.
It had turned cold.
Eric had the day off, so it was family day.
Trev woke up and right away started up Oregon Trail.
And stayed with it.
And hunted bear and deer and gathered mountain lily tubers for cooking and gathered elderberries and nettles and talked to folks about crossing rivers with covered wagons and learned about explorers and snake bites and that measles can lead to pneumonia and it was totally cool. He trekked all the way to Oregon; completed his mission.
Maddie played on the other computer, played wiiheeheee with her daddy, chased outside with him, helped him with mowing the lawn, went for a bike ride....
We all built with Citiblocks.
And Trev completed two more excursions.
And it was quiet. And it was restful,
and even more than that, it was really wonderful. It was full of lovely new ideas and discoveries, and it was this wholesome, rich, quiet sort of dreamy thing.
That's not a very concise description, is it?
But it was.
And it was very different than a 'usual' sort of day, but at the same time it was so... us, and so Just Right.
I think that's the biggest surprise and advantage of living this way... there is no one perfect way or day - instead there are hundreds of them.
And it's so wonderful to discover and appreciate them, and to be able to accept them - the moments, the life - as it comes.
Even though there are thousands of flavors and tempos, the life isn't disjointed and disconnected, but rather the opposite - it's harmonious and seamless, beautiful and rich.
And there is plenty of room in that for a lovely, quiet Monday.