A Home of the Angels

“Ask the little child what is home?
You will find that to him it is the world — he knows no other.
The father’s love, the mother’s smile, the sister’s embrace, the brother’s welcome,
throw about his home a heavenly halo, and make it as attractive to him as the home of the angels.
Home is the spot where the child pours out all its complaints, and it is the grave of all its sorrows.
Childhood has its sorrows and grievances,
but home is the place where these are soothed and banished by the sweet lullaby of a fond mother’s voice.

‘A home, that paradise below
Of sunshine, and of flowers,
Where hallowed joys perennial flow
By calm sequester’d bowers.’

 

 

Life is good here in our little home. Summer is in full swing, the gardens are bursting and growing and so beautiful. We have had a true Ontario heat wave, with a slight break in temperatures as the warm air will once again heat up by the end of the week. This means a lot of side porch bathing, playing in the water and attempting to stay in the shade. We have had a few children and one adult fall ill to heat stroke – so with this additional heat wave threatning to end off the week, we are promising to take it a bit easier.

 

Happy, but hot, little ones just need a nice washbucket to play in and all will be right with their world.

 

Give them a few kitchen utensils that can hold water and they are over the moon delighted.

“Mommy, I’m making jam,” the little sun-tanned boy said, while pouring water through the funnel.

Summer, for us, is a time of sweat, hard work, happy afternoons and ready-for-bed evenings. We enjoy our home and our garden, our moments outdoors and the freedom from the regular schedule of school. Chores still abound and work still calls our name, but it is a lovely season indeed. I hope my children look back with fond memories of their humble, imperfect chilhood home – especially in the summer months when everything is green and fresh and the flowers are vibrant and happy, bobbing in the summer breeze around the porch.

… There childhood nestles like a bird which has built its abode among the roses;
there the cares and the coldness of earth are, as long as possible, averted.
Flowers there bloom, or fruits invite on every side, and there paradise would indeed be restored,
could mortal power ward off the consequences of sin. This new garden of the Lord would then abound in beauty unsullied, and trees of the Lord’s planting, bearing fruit to his glory,
would be found in plenty there – it would be reality, and not mere poetry to speak of:

 

 

[Big tractor, big boy, little tractor, little boy:
the boys preferred ‘farm vehicle’ of choice … the boys are all about tractors … big or small…]

 

 

{the girls’ preferred ‘farm’ vehicle of choice – this dingy, bent out of shape, well worn golf cart is used for carting around water for all our plants and gardens  and for a fun cruise with everyone on board … or even a wicked ride to see how well a newcomer can hold on to the sides as Lyla whips them around the property for a “tour”- I’m interested to see in how well this helps the girls when it is time to learn to drive a real car … perhaps with a few less passengers on board?}

 

[A new addition to the flowers – Helpful Husband dug out a new spot for me and the girls helped me put together a new rose garden for the front year, complete with three different type of roses, Baby’s Breath (oh so lovely!), a Bleeding Heart and Rose of Sharon. I am delighted!]

 

 

How is your summer coming along? I hope you are finding time to make good memories and smelling beautiful sweet-scented roses.

 

‘My own dear quiet home,
The Eden of my heart.
Home of my childhood!”
-The Royal Path of Life