montessori – Tiny Potager

The air is heavy when we awaken, there must be a storm coming. I open the skylights and a sudden gale whistles down the stairwell. My autistic 11 year old, still in pyjamas, is absolutely delighted. He sets up directly underneath the velux with an old Thomas the Tank Engine book and watches as the downdraft turns the pages for him.

Everyone else slowly gets up. We can feel the storm creeping into our bones. No one is much for moving this morning, except our littlest family member. She is standing at the back door with her boots on, holding a football; only a year old, but very determined.

Ten minutes later, my daughter and I are out in the fields. She finds a hollow, discarded corn stem from last year’s crop. As she holds the treasure aloft triumphantly, the twenty mile an hour winds whistle through it. She squeals as the magical singing sword comes to life.

There is a sprig of cow parsley on the footpath. My daughter rushes over to the hedgerow and spends quite a while trying to encourage the plant to rejoin its friends. I tell her that she can keep her find if she wants.

Clutching the flowers tightly, she heads off purposefully towards the darkening clouds on the horizon.

Soon, I am carrying these and many further treasures for her whilst she hunts around for yet more. A feather that was caught on a bramble. A snapped branch. A tiny stone. She pauses to draw faces into the soft ground with a twig.

The clouds, distant just moments ago, are shepherded towards us with increasing speed. The gale is picking up.

My little explorer carefully collects brittle fragments of fallen leaves from the path; opening her palm, she watches them take flight.

Our voices also fly away from us. I show her that we can shout as loud as we want into the storm and it sounds like just a whisper.

My daughter loves this game. She stands firm, bracing herself against the harsh weather, “HELLO!” She holds her corn-sword aloft and yells her favourite words; “RABBIT! FLOWER! FOOTBALL!” Her voice comes out as the tiniest squeak. She thinks. Looking up at the sky, she roars her fiercest tiger roar … just as the wind drops. Her eyes are wide with delighted surprise, did she do that?

She is full of smiles as we turn towards home, her hand in mine. I confide to her that only the bravest and strongest can send a storm back to where it came from.

—Keep safe and well everyone. With heartfelt thanks to all those who are working to keep us safe, especially those on the frontline in the NHS and hospitals around the world.—

Visit my Little Art Shop: www.tinypotager.shop

Commission Enquiries: tinypotager@hotmail.com

Our toddler daughter has become custodian of the assorted terracotta pots of late winter bulbs. Every day, she carefully lifts them over to the raised beds for inspection.

Each crocus is petted, kissed and whispered to, before being placed back on the wooden ledge. I wonder what she is telling them for it must be working – they have more than outlasted their usual flowering time.

The heavy rains have brought yet more stones to the surface of the beds. It is taking a long time to hand pick them, so I am looking at investing in a garden sieve. I glance up from my work and spot that my daughter thinks my kneeler makes a great trampoline for her ball.

Being March, it is not long before the sun vanishes, and the skies look an ominous, uniform, heavy grey. The air smells like snow.

Sudden changes in the weather acutely affect our two autistic younger sons, who are extremely sensitive to air pressure drops, so this is my cue to tuck them into bed, wrapped in blankets with a chewy treat to munch on, to try and reduce the symptoms of dizziness and headaches.

Time to prepare lunch. I find if I almost par-boil whole, peeled carrots, my daughter’s blunt baby knife will cut through them and she can practise her cooking skills alongside me. We spend some time building giant carrot towers. She sneaks the occasional slice; carrots are so sweet that she thinks they are a special treat.

Then the hail arrives, soon replaced by snow. Not cold enough for it to settle, the little dots of ice quickly melt away. Within ten minutes, there are light blue skies again.

In the afternoon, my second son and I make homemade soap together with the last of the dried lavender we preserved the previous summer. We use small lego moulds to create calming, soapy, building blocks for the youngest three children. The larger soaps will be given to friends and family as gifts.

Here in the kitchen our windowsill seeds are starting to germinate. Looking out, I see the white furry buds on our apple tree and miniature leaves are sprouting on the hardy shrubs. It gives me the inspiration I need to complete any leftover indoor winter tasks, knowing that when spring arrives we will be spending long, happy days in the garden.

Visit my Little Art Shop: www.tinypotager.shop

Commission Enquiries: tinypotager@hotmail.com

Tag: montessori

Almanac: How to scare a storm away

Potager Garden: Winter pots, the briefest snow shower and homemade lavender soap