Further Morning Wonders...

Last week we had lovely swirling petals on our way to school.

This week, pork.

The back streets are getting more and more interesting all the time.
Happy Tuesday

Pink Snow

The city of Brussels has been putting in a new tram track between our house and school for about a year now. I think the new tram track is a great idea. I think closing three lanes is a bad one. Consequently, I have been exploring the back streets. Brussels is not designed like a Roman city with strait, orderly streets. It more closely resembles a wad of string that has spent too much time in the back of drawer and has collected an impressive quantity of lint, dust, dirt, twisty-ties, and stray hairs. Brigham Young would not approve. So, exploring the back streets as a time saving measure is a risky proposition. It does, however, have it's definite charms as we discovered on our way to school last week. There is a tiny neighborhood hidden away that must at one time have been factory housing. Hundreds of identical brown cottages with identical green shutters line the narrow streets in a convergence of quaint that is sometimes hidden in biggish cities like Brussels. The best part of this neighborhood is the profusion of cherry trees in full bloom. We happened to drive by on a blustery morning and it literally looked like we were in a snowstorm--a pink snowstorm. I don't know if you can see the petals falling in these pictures, but the air was full of swirling, floating pink and there were drifts in the yards. It looked like someone had gotten happy with a giant container of pink frosting. Plus, we missed the traffic and got to school three minutes early. Nice.

Jiggity Jig

Matthew and I are back from Florence. That statement was preceded by 23 hours of travel time which included amazing BO, stomach flu in the ranks, very tired but spectacularly civilized children and a little itinterary deviation.
I never before realized that when your night train is 40 minutes late leaving Italy, that puts you in the middle of Swiss commuter traffic which necessitates being sidetracked (literally) for 40 minutes while the Swiss get to work. And when you are sidetracked for 40 minutes in Switzerland, that means that the Italian train can only take you as far as Dijon before it needs to turn around and go back to Italy. And that means that you have to pack up 120 twelve year olds on 15 minutes notice and jump on another train that will take you to Paris, but not to the station where the buses are waiting. So of course the buses have to drive to the new station, which is really so much more sensible than taking 120 children to the buses. However, because the buses have been waiting so long, the drivers are entitled to a 45 minute smoking break and the teachers are a little bleary eyed, and the DVD player doesn't work and we are under no circumstances letting these children off the bus because heaven only knows how long it would take us to round them up again, and so, it only took Matthew and I 23 hours to get back from Florence.

It was completely worth it.

Brief Intermission

I must call a brief intermission from the cruise recount. I am in Florence with the 6th grade fieldtrip (not bragging, just stating the facts). I will finish up with the Med in a few days and maybe have a few pics to share from the adventures of 100+ twelve year olds exploring the roots of the Renaissance in it's birthplace. A few quotes from the day:

"When are we going shopping?"

"But Dr. Redmond, I am mature."

" The gelato we had after lunch was not as good as the gelato we had after dinner."

"Why are there so may dead people in this church?"

"Can I share your umbrella?"

"There are no frescos in this church because it would confuse the simplicity of the architectural form." A 12 year old came up with that astute observation.

I think we may have a few Renaissance minds of the 6th grade variety.