I have my boots, Mom. Can we go outside?

This spring, we're going to be making a concerted effort toward more outside learning. When we began homeschooling in September, there were several warm weeks which made it possible for us to walk to the local conservation areas.

We have many, world-class nature areas here. For example, the oldest fossil reef on the planet is a 15-minute walk from our door. Scientists come from around the country to study our fossilized reef. How can you pass up a learning opportunity like that?

Today's kids are nature-starved. Even in our rural town, the lack of sidewalks makes it difficult for kids and families to walk to parks and fishing areas easily. In the winter, (especially this winter with weeks of below-zero temperatures and heavy snows), it was easy to stay inside watching documentaries and reading books, but our moods suffered for it. Everyone was more irritable. I even heard the dreaded B-word... "bored."

We did indeed go outside today. With the temperatures finally reaching the low 50s, Gavin even decided that the boots were optional. We played in the last of the snow and tidied up all of the detritus that ends up on the deck and around the house over the winter (like an old cardboard circle from a pizza buried under two feet of snow). If it's anywhere above fifty near you... see you outside!

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I swear it was sunny here just five minutes ago...

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A couple of months ago, Trevor created a little terrarium in a mason jar for a scouting project. His parsley, oregano, and basil have been growing happily (if leggy) in there ever since. A few weeks later, he found a woolly bear caterpillar defying winter hibernation with a walk in the field and put him inside as well.

I fully expected the little guy to die in there -- who knew if woolly bears ate pizza herbs? But sure enough, we came downstairs one day to find that Barry the Caterpillar had spun himself a little brown cocoon in the warm corner of the jar nearest the candle I keep burning in the kitchen.

The other day, I saw a flutter in my peripheral vision. Barry had emerged as a lovely orange-ish Isabella Tiger Moth. He stayed inside for 24-hours to wait out a cold, rainy day, then we released him into the backyard.

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Last week, we woke up to a day of no school and a thick layer of ice coating trees, power lines, cars and rooftops. After checking that the sump pump runoff pipe was unstuck, we crunched around for a while and examined the effects. No damage, and it was warm enough that most of the ice was dropping off the trees as we watched.



I used the tractor to plow the driveway while Trevor shoveled the walkway and front porch. It was the kind of slush that turns into a solid sheet of ice once the temperature drops, so we had to get it up quickly. During the last "wintry mix," I left the slush and we had two inches of ice beneath our snowfall for weeks. Walking to the end of the driveway to meet the school bus was an Olympic sport.



It rained for a while, and then the mercury started to fall. Boots and snowshoes don't help much on ice. I think we'll need some snow & ice cleats for next year. That said, I still try to get the mail every day in my worn-out, tractionless Crocs and I slide halfway there. Trevor's nod to the upcoming spring was his attempt to play with water balloons outside. To Vermonters, 34-degrees is apparently outside water play weather.



I am particularly glad that even on a long snow day Trevor didn't turn on (or ask to turn on) the television. On the flip side, he did tie one cat to each end of a long ribbon from my craft stash and giggled as they pulled each other around the house. I don't think the cats were quite as amused. Where's that remote again?

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Our lake was deep and wide enough to have waves.

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The water was icy, the wind was frigid and the boat had a hissing leak, but we made a valiant attempt to go boating on Lake Liloia.

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Question: When 20 inches of snowfall on a four-acre field suddenly melts during a weekend warm up, where does the water go?

Answer: Nowhere.

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Dude, this cow next door is, like, always staring at me. Creeps me out, man.

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