Now for FiddleCraft I'm learning:
- Vals Fran Skane (Efter J. Bruun f.1818)
- Sarona (James Scott Skinner; is he a relation of mine or that behaviourist's, I wonder?)
- Sitting in the Stern of a Boat (Rev. William MacLeod)
- The Eagle's Whistle (the same version as Iris plays).
Other than fiddling, the rest of life is interesting. A week ago Iggy Hop, the rabbit who is neither dead nor new, had a seizure.
"Mummy! Come quick! Iggy's fighting with nobody!" called Iris as soon as Hazel drew her attention to him,
"Coming!" I knew it was a description of a seizure, Ruth described the cat's final throes exactly the same way.
"What's he doing?" asked one of their cousins, who couldn't see,
"Dying, probably," I replied, dourly.
The four girls and I scooped him and Moonlight Midnight "Moon" up and whisked them off to the vet (he had another seizure in the carry-box and it bounced across the kitchen floor). I rang as we left and by the time we got there the vet had already looked up rabbit's seizures. Apparently he probably has a brain worm, and likely Chickpea died of having its friends set up shop in her kidneys or some other quick-to-kill organ. Now he and Moon have a month of a special worm medicine and otherwise seem fine.
Hazel and Iris ran the Cross Country. Iris came 2nd in her group (Year 2 girls)! Hazel finished despite a sore knee. Or nearly, it was hard to see the end and she stopped just before the official finish line.
Hazel's Circus School is going well, I like her learning tricky tricks!
We are making Iris practice playing the harp every day for a bit and hoping it doesn't put her off more than it makes her feel capable and competent. Iris's harp teacher Kitty has given me two amazing things above and beyond a child to play me beautiful music. One, the notion that one should listen to a song until it plays in one's mind before learning to play it. The other, an impetus to practice: she told Iris to practice every day when your Mum plays her fiddle.
Sean and the girls are now steering the horses they are learning to ride.
I have been reading Cornelia Funke and James Thurber; I wish he had a blog.
Ooh! There's the oven timer to tell me to get the wheat from Iris's fish-shaped wheat-bag back out of the oven because it should have recovered from its washing now.