the sleppys

We always camp on New Year’s Eve. Taylor asks,”Why don’t we ever camp on MY birthday? We always camp on the boys’.” What’s a father to do? His little girl wants to girl camp. We are Sleppys, and we ain’t normal. Let’s camp two weekends in a row, I suggest. We do and had one of the best trips yet. This was our ninth. What follows is a rough draft stream of consciousness:

Ranger Alice learned our names and who we are. She sang Happy Birthday to Taylor and taught me the name of the rough-leaved velvetberry.Ty and I found the Deer Stand, a myth, a ghost of Royal Palm. Thanks to Frank Swan of Chicago.

We met Thom and Laura. They recently found the Deer Stand, blue prints of the Royal Palm Lodge, made a map of the site, marked off the original site, made a trail, found a trail, gave me a map, and told me all of this. Thom has a Gladesman boat he made. Laura has an old iron and manual sewing machine used by the Indians. The girls made Indian dolls with beads.

A seat was reserved for Mel.

Taylor filmed us setting up the camp.

Taylor and Daddy went for a birthday hike through the pinelands that bordered a hammock. We nibbled on native plants along the trail. Happy Birthday Taylor!

We ate rice and beans in the glow from the flame of our homemade oil lamps and had a chocolate loafcake with a number 6 on it.

Taylor performed in front of an audience for the first time.

We learned of a great song. Thanks Ranger Barbara.

Cold morning means first ever morning fire. Build two fires in minutes.

Were out by eight.

Hiking to the entrance of the mythological Deer Stand

The Boys in Thom’s Gladesman boat… aboard are supplies to run moonshine

Laura and Dad talking Everglades’ history

Three Sisters: Traditional Miccosukee dolls, made with modern materials.

Ready for a rice and beans dinner – with the lantern between the homemade oil lamps

Our campsite just before sunset

Kendall and Mommy

My Lord, as long as I draw breath, my boys will be gentlemen and my daughters ladies. Your will be done.

Around the 20th of December, we were playing outside when we saw a monarch caterpillar hanging upside down in the telltale J-style form, ready to pupate. It was jiggling and squirming, bobbling in small circles, with its back end stuck to the underside of an areca palm frond with silk. We kept playing, waved to the mailman as he delivered mail to the houses on the other side of the street.

A few minutes later, Kendall and I came back to see the caterpillar. The lower half, where the head is and the “J” curves, was pupa green. It was swelling in some parts and squeezing in others, very dynamic motion. So a few minutes after that, I cam back to see the cater-pupa and found that it had completely morphed. It was green, textbook monarch chrysalis. It didn’t yet have the gold-looking line around the cap of the pupa, and it still had its former “skin” crumpled up at the top, where the silk holds the pupa, the “cremaster,” if you speak butterfly science.

When the mailman was making his rounds our side of the street, all of us were really excited about the newly morphed pupa, and the girls told the mailman all about it. All he can do is smile and nod because he didn’t understand a word that the three-year old’s were telling him. I wanted them to tell the story, so I only translated.

We could have all sat there and watched the whole thing in no more than ten minutes total, but I was under the impression that the morphing took about an hour. Now that I know it takes minutes, I’ll definitely stay to watch next time.

Just before going camping for Taylor’s birthday, the pupa started turning black, a sign that a)it’s dead, or b) it’s ready to exit. The black shows more in the end because the wings are mostly black. After a day and a half of its turning black, one can see the orange and white through the clear, thin pupal “skin.”

January 5 in the afternoon

January 6 in the morning

Clearly, we would be missing the butterfly’s emergence because we would be out camping.

He did leave us a present, as they all do when they emerge and go off to survive:

Pupal skin

I caught a picture of this one.

I can’t find his pupa if he did successfully morph. I’m sure we’ll see him again, though.

We took two Everglades camping trips, two weekends, back to back. My camping-prep list consists of getting the children’ clothes and accessories squared away in their bags. December 29th, the boots were paired and laced up and contained its sock for its foot… all except Kyle’s. He had just put on his boots to go run errands with Dad only a few days before. Somehow, the lace was pulled out, and the sock and boot were missing.

After looking around and asking the children to put things away so that we can find the sock and boot, I found the missing sock in Kyle’s “miscellaneous” pile of stuff. *sigh*

Finally, when Dad came home and moved a duffel bag over a few more inches than I had moved it hours earlier, we found the boot itself. *whew*

While preparing for our January 7th camping trip, I practiced extreme vigilance during the week, making sure that no socks were lost and no laces were pulled out of boots.

This was my reward:

The day after the New Year, I went to teach my regular students. I came back at about eight in the evening. I was about to knock on the door when I heard music coming from the inside of the house. It was loud and fast and 80′s. Here is a scan of what I saw when I came in.

Ty in his pajamas, reading Earth & Space

Taylor teaches her dolls about the ocean.

Kyle singing into his “microphone,” Kendall and Talon on Dad’s lap

Four Long Haired Freaky People who pay no attention to Signs.

To the neighbors, it must sound that we’re having a party with topless girls and wild hair.

Oh wait, we are.

Santa Claus delivered an easel on Christmas. All five children got a kick out of it. The boys learned to play Hangman from Dad. The girls practiced drawing stick figures. Well, the twins, who are three years old, draw stick figures. Taylor teaches maths.

1 x 100
______

100

Went fishing this AM so Kyle could use the rod and reel Santa brought him. Ty and I wanted to try out the lures Santa had brought us. My Rooster Tail was working like magic until Ty hooked a large male tilapia. That damned fish broke the line and took my new lure!

Ty apologized, tears welling up in his eyes. It was a large fish putting up a big fight, so I told him that it was okay. It took a bit of time for him to process it all. I explained that it sucked that we lost a lure Santa gave us, but losing it while fighting a fish was part of the game. Better to lose it to a fish than to a snag on something, I told him.

We have been practicing many, many Christmas carols and holiday songs since before Hallowe’en, in hopes to go caroling this year. The children, especially the three elder, know the tunes and most lyrics to over fifty carols and songs, holy and secular. This week, we chose a dozen to go caroling.

As night fell, we crossed the street to sing to a couple of the elderly neighbors. We walked back onto our block and sang for Dad. We went out to a couple other neighbors, some were home, some were not.

We’ll try again today, Christmas Eve, but during the day because we have family traditions for eventide.

If you have a minute and a half, here’s a video of our singing “Jingle Bells.”

I ride my bike to play the piano at the church service. It’s only about a mile away, so I don’t really need to drive the big van. I thought that it might need some more than my pretty self, so I looked around for streamers. I found only streamers that go on a little girl’s bike, which are too shiny and frivolously whimsical for me (although I like shiny, whimsical frivolity). After Googling three-word terms, I found this blog that gives instructions on how to crochet bike streamers. I switched the direction of the rows so that I can triple crochet to add buttons (for easy applying and removing).

I like the way they came out, the cool colors. They go with my long, flowing skirt, which goes with my long flowing hair. All I need is a basket to hold crusty baguettes to sell… and French customers to buy crusty baguettes.