The most beautiful breeze breathes through my new house as I write. The emptiness of the house fills with cool air, and exhales, new again. Whenever I imagine breathing, I think of the <spir(e)> word family.
“Most people’s lives are like a square. Mine is a dodecahedron.” My new eighth grader smiles at me. We’re just getting to know each other and she throws this at me. How brilliant. This is our entry point. This is the beginning of our study.
Summer is ending. The nights are growing cool. Apple picking and warm cinnamon desserts are on our minds. A season full of beautiful colors and words like <autumn>, with an <n> waiting to shine in <autumnal>. The months of September, October and November have denotations of “seven”, “eight” and “nine”, even though they are the 9th, 10th and 11th months of the year. Stories ready to be raked into a tantalizing, jump-worthy pile.