I had this 180/180 idea, thinking it would be all neat and tidy, a little, personal subversion of an arbitrary number that means so much to so many people (myself included, for many, many, many years). But learning isn't neat and tidy. It happens in fits and spurts, ebbs and flows, clouds and laser points. I'm not saying I'm going to abandon the structure of this blog, I'm just trying to tell you what I noticed is all: that if this blog is about learning it is going to have to be an evolving work in progress, and may or may not behave in ways that I can imagine or predict.
Here's my first (unexpected) part II of a day that seemed a little too rich to share just one moment.
Late in the afternoon, while I was raking in the side yard, Woody found something shiny and extraordinary. And then another. And another. Here in the Ozarks, the ground is full of glittery rocks, right there just below the leaf litter. We had never seen such a thing. We played pirate treasure and found more and more gems--my guesses were quartz, maybe some soapstone and mica. After about half an hour, Woody was done. It didn't seem like quite the right time to go looking up the proper names of the rocks or how they formed. He had moved on (though I did a little online looking myself, and will probably try to add a rock and mineral identification book to the bookshelf soon). So, maybe more rocks tomorrow, maybe another time, maybe when he's much older and he rediscovers them. Among the many special things about rocks is they are almost always right where you left them, nearly unchanged in human time. Rocks wait.