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| Making a teale bead for Naomi |
We were talking about the charm of Red River Cereal: cracked wheat, cracked rye and whole and cracked flax seed.
We were fishing examples of it out of our bowls, at least trying to get her to identify which was the cracked flax seed and which was whole.
She stayed aloof from our discussion, occasionally spooning her own breakfast into her mouth: rice krispies and fruit loops mixed.
She is not allows to just have the fruit loops alone.
Then the 3 of us slipped down to make beads, just a short run on them before the family left for their adventure.
A special moment, to go down to the bead workshop and pick out the colours you want for a bead.
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| My favourite blue colour |
When her colours were chosen, Mary began the bead making, putting the tubes of glass down on the metal stand that allows them to cool.
And she was using the aneal blanket, which allows the bead to cool at a slow rate. I have been told I must not let air in there when I want to peak and see how the bead is doing.
We were chatting, and Naomi was touching all of the tubes of beads, and then picked up the one that was cooling, a nice short one now and when she had it in her hand, she put the hot end to her forehead, using it to help her think.
She had no idea she had let it rest there. The extreme heat only let her think of of one thing – how to cool off that spot on her forehead.
I was running for a cold wet cloth to put there.
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| Do these colours look good together? |
And Naomi wants to visit the shop more, but she wants to sit back three feet from the bead making bench now.
Then the three of us had some discussions about how women have to learn to work with fire: in the kitchen, in the bead shop,and around campfires at night.
Naomi will be good with the discussion about fires in time, though at first it hurt to think about how that had happened to her.
I had forgotten until right now that little people have been burned with marshmallows and poked with sticks at the camp fire.
Maybe camp fires are out.
And maybe sitting watching your mother make beads is out as well.
Kitchen has to stay. At least so far in the history of womankind that has been a place where we have learned to work with fire in a that doesn't burn us and is useful to others.
Arta
When you started deleting the opportunities for children to play or see how fire could be used, this TED.com talk came into my head:
ReplyDeleteGever Tulley: 5 Dangerous Things You Should Let Your Kids Do
http://www.ted.com/talks/lang/eng/gever_tulley_on_5_dangerous_things_for_kids.html
He has some interesting ideas. Most importantly I like the idea of thinking about the size of our safety zone and doing your best to supervise while children discover as they play with dangerous things. Enjoy!
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ReplyDeleteI forgot to put the website on the last post. Here is the Tulley's website and the book he wrote about the 50 things you should let your kids do. Best quote:
ReplyDeletehttp://www.fiftydangerousthings.com/
"they are young, they will heal fast" - from the TED.com talk
When I was about as tall as the height of my mother's iron on the ironing board I touched the iron to my chin. Perhaps I had done this before and found it to be cool, but I bet the last time was the event I am referring to: The iron was hot! Can you explain why you did that, Naomi? I can't. I bet I wanted to feel the cold steel on my chin and was sorely disappointed.
ReplyDeleteI am watching that pinpont of a scab on Naomi's forehead and wondering how long it will be there. So far is has been lingering. She doesn't seem to notice it, but my eyes are on it.
ReplyDeleteWe were downstairs making beads again today -- Mary is sending some to Catherine's kids and they have ordered blues, greens and purples, which are not done and ready to go there next week.
Arta
Bead Transporter
I remember being perhaps about the same age Naomi was and being out at the lake. I noticed something shiny in a pile if grey powder on the side of the noisy house just below the chimney. I got closer. It was a dinner knife. I knew it didn't belong outside. I picked it up with my right hand, pinching the handle with my thumb and forefinger. I didn't manage to carry it very far before my pain receptors gave me the message to drop it. It wiped out a patch of my finger prints that meet for the pincer grasp. Vivid memories, those early burns.
ReplyDeleteCan you just explain to me how you are out reading this very old post from so long ago! And what a sweet little face we captured on a picture there so long ago. I need another to put beside this one -- Naomi, I think you are still investigating colour and fire.
ReplyDelete