Toucan Boxes

Our Toucan Box!Do you know that Mister Maker (of CBeebies art show fame) is a con artist? Now I know it’s not nice to make accusations but it’s true. In nearly every show Mister Maker paints some sort of plastic item (e.g. a bottle) for his art project. Anyone who has tried this knows you cannot paint plastic with water-based kid-friendly paints.

Ah but Mister Maker can! What’s the answer?

He just adds PVA glue to his poster paint. Yep, just like that. No problem. A beautiful, pristinely painted bottle ready to be turned into a rocket or tower or rainmaker. Yes, a rainmaker, that’s what we were making. Little Owl had it in mind as a gift for her cousin. No worries I thought, kebab sticks and beads in a plastic bottle, then we’ll paint it to make it look beautiful.

No.

OK, I concede, it does work, but certainly not in the one sitting Mister Maker does it in! Two weeks and ten coats later we were finally able to push in the kebab sticks and make the rainmaker. I have learnt my lesson and I will never trust that man again.

While I mouthed off loudly about Mister Maker and his tricks, a lovely friend recommended Toucan Boxes (she’s an art teacher). So for Christmas Little Owl received a three-month subscription from her kind grandparents. Our little starter kit arrived over Christmas and then we got our first proper box in January. A Toucan Box is basically an arts and crafts kit delivered to your door with all the activities planned, the materials included and pre-prepared, on a given theme. I have to say I was pretty impressed.

Our starter pack consisted of an apron to decorate with fabric crayons and a pair of Toucan Box scissors. Little Owl had fun colouring her apron and we put the scissors safe ready for the arrival of our first box (so safe we can’t find them, but it doesn’t matter we have more). Duly our box arrived and it was the Frozen Adventure. Little Owl donned her apron and we were off.

The main activities were building an Inuit igloo from polystyrene and colouring play figures to go with it, and painting a frozen polar bear landscape with ice paints and stencils. We also got a picture book about a polar bear. However, this does undersell what you get. For starters the actual packaging is so well designed that this became another activity in itself; colouring it in and cutting bits out to add to our igloo scene. Then, each activity comes with a load of suggestions for other things to do. We ‘ice skated’ across the kitchen floor on paper plates. We made a picture of the Northern Lights using shaving foam and paint. We watched an online clip about an Inuit boy building an igloo, which led to us finding clips of polar bears swimming and Torvill and Dean doing Bolero.

And I think that last bit is the key. It would have taken me evenings of planning and a trip to HobbyCraft to set-up the same activities to the same standard myself. Not having to do this meant I relaxed and got creative with the activities instead of worrying about whether they’d work and discovering I didn’t have something vital. The activities became a starting point for us to explore together. As well as finding other video clips we got out the atlas and chatted about the frozen parts of our planet, and cut out snowflakes from bits of paper, all to the Frozen soundtrack (obviously!). It’s not to say that I still won’t have a go myself. What’s a childhood with out a wonky cereal box castle you built with your mum? But we did have a lot of fun.

The only thing Toucan couldn’t do for me was to provide a nice slick answer to Little Owl’s question about what the Northern Lights are. Thankfully that’s what Google is for.

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Kingfisher sighting

Illustration of a kingfisher by Hannah Foley. All rights reserved (www.owlingabout.co.uk)Last week the most amazing thing happened. Finch and I were out for a frosty walk in the nature reserve opposite our house and we saw a kingfisher! It was bright blue against the dark wet vegetation. It flashed past us, just catching the corner of my eye. It perched on a branch above the partially frozen burn then flew further down again as we approached. A lady with two dogs was coming along the path in the opposite direction and as the bird whizzed back down the burn in the direction it had come I had a perfect view of it in profile, bright eye, copper streak, and turquoise wings. Amazing! I was fit to burst with the wonder of it. And how hilarious that we can barely get a sparrow to visit our garden and then we go and see a kingfisher, just like that!

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The English Year

Front cover of The English Year by Steve Roud.I have added a second book to my monthly readings to help me keep my New Year’s resolution of getting back to simplicity and seasonality. This book is called The English Year and is by Steve Roud. The English Year details ‘traditional’ customs and festivals occurring across England over the successive months of the year.

In amongst the better-known festivals of St Valentine’s Day and Shrovetide we can celebrate St Scholastica’s Day on the 10th. The festival commemorates Scholastica, sister of Benedict (founder of the Benedictine monastic order) who is believed to have power over storms. More sinisterly the day has been traditionally remembered in Oxford for an altercation between the townsfolk and the university students in 1354 over some bad wine that led to a “pitched battle” over several days and the killing of over sixty students! Can you imagine the headlines?! It must have been some pretty bad wine. Amongst other punishments the townsfolk were ordered to process to the university for a service of penance every St Scholastica’s day and to pay an annual fine of sixty-three pence (a penny for each student killed). Incredibly this tradition continued for over 400 years, only ending in 1825.

A slightly more fun custom to keep is Pully Lug Day (the Friday after Ash Wednesday), on which you are allowed to pull people’s ears without being told off. I’ve always known this as Kissing Friday but I’m equally open to Pully Lug Day, although it might be nicer to spend the day kissing folks than pulling their ears. I suppose you could always do both!

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Catkins

Illustration of rooks roosting by Hannah Foley. Allergist reserved (www.owlingabout.co.uk)As the beginning of February unfolds I turn to the corresponding chapter in Stephen Moss’ book Wild Hares and Hummingbirds.  The countryside surrounding his home on the Somerset Levels is shrouded in low mists and dripping with damp. He describes “adventurous toads crawl[ing] purposefully into… [the] hallway.” Moss’ signs of the season are a song thrush and catkins. I love catkins, so fat and furry, dancing in the breeze. Moss explains that catkins come out when there are no leaves on the surrounding trees so that the pollen can be spread by the wind without obstruction. He describes the tiny crimson female flower at the end of each catkin, which, once fertilized, will become a cluster of nuts.

With a fresh flurry of snow on the ground over night it’s hard to believe nature is already in the process of waking up ready for spring, but we had a beautiful cold sunny day on Saturday that smelt of spring. A robin sang out from the bare branches of a silver birch on the way to school this morning and the sparrows in the hedge five doors-down are going mad so all eyes are peeled in our house. The first to see a catkin this February gets a crème egg!

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Porringer

Illustration of a porringer by Hannah Foley. All rights reserved (www.owlingabout.co.uk).We are firm devotees of porridge for breakfast in our house. In the past few weeks our porridge experience has been revolutionised by a porringer. Despite its name, a porringer isn’t just for making porridge in. It’s for all sorts of soups and sauces, basically anything that needs to be cooked slowly on a low heat. It’s essentially a saucepan version of a bain-marie. The bottom pan contains boiling water and the top contains our porridge ingredients. Although it takes longer than using an ordinary pan, the porringer is perfect for porridge. An additional advantage is that I don’t have to worry about burning it.

Porridge has long been associated with Scotland. By rights I should stir my porridge with a spurtle (essentially a pretty wooden stick). I should also stir it in a clockwise direction using only my right hand to ward off evil spirits. I do own a spurtle but have sacrilegiously used it for stirring pots of paint, and now I have my porringer, no stirring is required. I’ve read that historically Scottish families would cook up a great batch of porridge, pour it into a drawer, where it was left to cool and stored. They would then eat it by the slice. Considering porridge was traditionally made with water and salt, it must have been like eating the inside of a mattress. I can just imagine Little Owl’s face! I think we’ll stick with milk and honey.

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Burns night

Illustration of cottages by the sea by Hannah Foley. All rights reserved (www.owlingabout.co.uk).For those of you who don’t know (shame on you!) it is Burns Night on Sunday. Poor Little Owl is having a hard time of it. She is having to learn a Burns poem to recite by heart for school. I love that the school are doing this, it’s so old-fashioned and lovely, but the Scots words are getting her in a right tangle. “Richt wee deil” becomes “rickety wheel” in her brave attempts. I’ve put a copy of the poem at the bottom of the post for you to have a go at. I’m no help to her at all. Even when I get the pronunciation right I sound ridiculous. I’m just too English. It’s the “ch” sound that trips me up every time and that’s the sound that sounds so lyrical on anyone with a genuine Scottish accent.

Finch, on the other hand, is thoroughly enjoying the Burns traditions. He managed to polish off a heaped plate of haggis, tatties and neeps, accompanied by buttered oat cakes, and followed with shortbread at Toddler Group. Once he’d wolfed that down he crawled off to see if he could swipe any leftovers from the other children’s plates. There’s a baby who’s got his priorities sorted.

Roguey Pogey by Robert Burns.                                                                                                     Rogue pogey                                                                                                                                  Pickety peel                                                                                                                                           My sister is                                                                                                                                               A richt wee deil.

She nips my lugs                                                                                                                                And rugs my hair                                                                                                                         Scatters my toys                                                                                                                                   All ower the flair.

She lauchs and thinks                                                                                                                            It is great fun                                                                                                                                        But then her age                                                                                                                                     Is only one.

 

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Wild Hares and Hummingbirds

190903The sparrows have found our feeders! Granted it took minus temperatures for them to venture into our exposed garden but it’s a start. The hills behind our house were thick with snow this weekend. The trees wore strips of snow up one side of their trunks where the prevailing wind had blown it. Little Owl ignored warnings not to get too close to the edges of a frozen boggy pool. One leg went in up to her knee before Big Dreamer could catch her. She howled but I don’t think she’ll make the same mistake again.

In amongst the skeletal branches of a blackthorn bush a great tit sang out. I couldn’t see him but could hear him very well. Stephen Moss describes the plight of small birds in winter with feeling in his book Wild Hares and Hummingbirds. I am reading it as part of my new year’s resolution to get back to seasonality and simplicity. Wild Hares and Hummingbirds is subtitled The Natural History of an English Village and takes its inspiration from Gilbert White’s seminal text The Natural History of Selbourne. Much to my shame I have a beautiful illustrated version of White’s book but have only ever managed to get about a quarter of the way into it. I need to give it another go. Wild Hares and Hummingbirds is much more readable and in it Moss looks in depth at the wildlife of his home parish of Mark, in Somerset, a chapter for each month of the year.

It probably isn’t often that a Somerset winter has much in common with a Scottish one, but Moss takes a year that sees the UK in the grip of the worst winter for 30 years, so as I delved into the first chapter, the snow-covered Somerset levels were matched by a thick blanket of snow outside. It’s funny how seeing the frozen landscape of Moss’ home parish through his eyes gave me new eyes to see my own surroundings. I loved the way he talked about the snow acting like a natural uplighter, bringing a brilliant clarity to the features of familiar species. He talks about the Norman church in Mark, and the yews there being home to the tiny goldcrest, who survives winter on the thousands of minute insects that live on them. Moss says that yews have long been associated with sacred ground because of their longevity (they are some of the most ancient living things in the UK) and the poisonous quality of their leaves and berries, which discouraged grazing on church grounds. On the school run, we pass a ruined church that dates back to the 1220s. This morning the yews stood out in all their dense green darkness as if I had never seen them before. I wondered if there might be a gold crest somewhere nearby.

As we headed up the hill to school Little Owl suddenly pointed upwards. “The birds are making a ‘s’ Mummy,” she called. Against the clear blue sky there was a skein of birds, so high up it was impossible to tell what they were, but for all the world like a beautiful hand-written ‘s’ that flowed and coiled with their movement. I love that she’s noticing nature in action around her. I’m enjoying keeping my new year’s resolution but it’s all the better for sharing.

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Writing for Children

The Selkie Girl by Janis MacKay.This week I started an evening class on writing for children tutored by children’s author Janis MacKay. That’s one of her lovely books there!

There’s something slightly intoxicating about walking out of the house on my own in the evening with only a notebook and pen in my bag. I felt a bit giddy and nearly clicked my heels together as I headed off to the station. I love learning too, so there was that Christmas Eve feeling of anticipating something exciting and wonderful about to happen.

I liked Janis straight away. She made us all feel at home and is so generous with her knowledge and experience. This week we talked about the child’s point of view and delved into our own childhoods for writing inspiration. We talked about play and wonder and simplicity. In spite of the fact that my brain was all fingers and thumbs with each of the exercises we were given I really enjoyed it and I’m looking forward to next week. In the mean time Janis gave us homework so I’d better get on!

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Folk tales

Tales from the Mabinogion and Swedish Folk Tales.Snow musters out of brooding grey skies and a powerful chill wind scatters wheelie bins like leaves. We aren’t managing to walk to school as often these days but when we do we stomp in icy puddles and count the colours in the wintery sunrise. One morning we spot a pied wagtail hopping across the pavement and tell him about our full but rarely visited bird feeders. I hope he pops in. Specks of snow confetti the air at hometime so no one hangs around for a blether at the school gate . We exchange gloomy weather forecasts and scuttle home again, heads down. The wind finds its way inside Finch’s hood. He blinks rapidly and gulps repeatedly, as if someone is throwing water in his face. It’s weather for staying in the warm and I can recommend two beautiful books for snuggling down with.

I received both of these for Christmas and they are both volumes of folk tales. One is Tales from the Mabinogion by Gwyn Thomas and Kevin Crossley-Holland. The Mabinogion are medieval Welsh folk tales, all at least 700 years old. They are utterly bizarre but totally beguiling, and this is a wonderful re-telling. My favourite character is the giant king Bendigeidfran, who wades across the Irish Sea to rescue his sister, Branwen. This version of the Mabinogion is made all the more special by the illustrations of Margaret Jones. I love the mystery and nobility to be found in her illustrations. All the creatures in her images could have stepped right off the page of a medieval manuscript but with a beautiful fluidity all of Margaret’s own. Margaret Jones is especially inspiring to me because she didn’t start illustrating commercially until she was 60 and just seems like such a nice person. You can read more about her here.

The second book is called Swedish Folk Tales, published by Floris Books. The tales are written by various authors but what brings them together in this volume is the incredible illustrations of John Bauer. Bauer was born in 1882 in Sweden. These illustrations date from around 1912-13. I love Bauer’s work. It’s so full of atmosphere and other worldliness. I don’t have any evidence to support this but I’m sure Bauer’s work was used as a reference for the Disney film Frozen. The trolls in particular appear to owe a lot to Bauer.

Lots of happy reading!

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