“Winter is the time for home.” Edith Sitwell
A basket filled with books is a beautiful and powerful thing. Sitting patiently on a shelf or in a corner, it cradles so many opportunities. Imagination, connection, wonder, inspiration, and priceless snuggle time.
Welcome back to the “5 Essentials for Homeschool Enchantment” series! Today’s post is dedicated to one of the easiest essentials to implement in your homeschool, and it’s also one of the most delightful: book baskets.
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It never fails to amaze me how effective simple things can be when it comes to homeschooling. Copywork–probably the most basic of concepts you could possible conceive of–can cover everything from spelling to handwriting to grammar to punctuation and composition. Dictation and French dictation–also very simple as in concept–reinforce all of these. Put them together,
In one of our long-lost blog posts of the old iteration, I wrote a post about New Year’s declarations, and why I make them (instead of resolutions.) From that post:
We’ve been using a morning basket for nearly two years, and I don’t see us stopping any time soon. This is by far one of the most delightful parts of our day, and it’s made it so much easier to include all of the rich experiences that come with a Charlotte Mason approach to homeschooling. We actually use both a morning basket and a bedtime basket, as we do a great deal of our homeschool in two chunks–one in the earliest part of the day, and one just before bed.
I first heard about morning baskets about a year and a half ago, from Pam Barnhill’s blog, www.edsnapshots.com. Immediately, I knew that it was going to fit right in with our homeschooling philosophy of coming together to delight in our learning, and beginning our day with a peaceful and intentional rhythm. So I got a (very unattractive) green plastic tub out of my daughter’s closet and filled it with books. Since then, our basket has evolved and improved
This summer brings with it a bittersweetness that’s difficult to describe. My littlest daughter is beginning to ask about words on the page, point out letters in street signs, and linger longer at the table as I work with her older sister on math. Her tiny voice is full of questions, her games have become more complex and intricate. She’s growing up.
Okay, she’s three. But to me, it’s a lifetime of change