art with children / crafting with children / HOMESCHOOLING

Searching for whales

whale printing 5

Strange as it may sound, I've had whales on the brain for the last several months. I can't remember where it started, really.

I know I had this idea to start making whale shaped chalkboards, but that still hasn't panned out. Then I thought about carving whale shaped stamps, but that hasn't happened yet either. So when I stumbled across this book
on making hand-print animal art and happened to turn to the whale page first, it pretty much seemed like a sign to me. Don't you think?

The girls and I made some prints on paper this winter but after going to a printing/textile workshop at the BMA this weekend, I was inspired to get the girls to do a little whale printing on some kitchen towels for me today. Sort of like poor man's screen printing.

The book is filled with some amazing instructions for making animals using all kinds of handprint techniques–only stamping certain fingers, just your palm, printing with your fist. Things I'd never even thought of.

But making the whale is pretty straightforward.

whale printing 1

To start, stamp (or in this case we painted with a brush) your hand and fingers only. Not your thumb. (if you want more of a handprint look, don't let your children coat their entire hands and palm in paint. The girls coated their hands for these whales, which makes them much more filled in.)

whale printing 2

After you have printed your hand on the paper, use your pointer finger to make the fin and tail.

whale printing 3

Once the girls prints dried, I used a sharpie marker to outline the whale body and add an eye. Because Mary's was so dark, I used the end of the paintbrush to paint on the eye.

whale printing 4

All in all, an extremely successful, easy project. And I have a little whale in my life made from my favorite little hands. The perfect combination.

whale printing 5

Strange as it may sound, I've had whales on the brain for the last several months. I can't remember where it started, really.

I know I had this idea to start making whale shaped chalkboards, but that still hasn't panned out. Then I thought about carving whale shaped stamps, but that hasn't happened yet either. So when I stumbled across this book
on making hand-print animal art and happened to turn to the whale page first, it pretty much seemed like a sign to me. Don't you think?

The girls and I made some prints on paper this winter but after going to a printing/textile workshop at the BMA this weekend, I was inspired to get the girls to do a little whale printing on some kitchen towels for me today. Sort of like poor man's screen printing.

The book is filled with some amazing instructions for making animals using all kinds of handprint techniques–only stamping certain fingers, just your palm, printing with your fist. Things I'd never even thought of.

But making the whale is pretty straightforward.

whale printing 1

To start, stamp (or in this case we painted with a brush) your hand and fingers only. Not your thumb. (if you want more of a handprint look, don't let your children coat their entire hands and palm in paint. The girls coated their hands for these whales, which makes them much more filled in.)

whale printing 2

After you have printed your hand on the paper, use your pointer finger to make the fin and tail.

whale printing 3

Once the girls prints dried, I used a sharpie marker to outline the whale body and add an eye. Because Mary's was so dark, I used the end of the paintbrush to paint on the eye.

whale printing 4

All in all, an extremely successful, easy project. And I have a little whale in my life made from my favorite little hands. The perfect combination.

animal kingdom / DAILY FARM LIFE / life on thomas run

The final count

the final count

I almost didn't write this post this morning, for fear I might win some award for Internet's Most Depressing Blog. But since you've all been on this journey with me, I can't help but share it with all of you.

Saturday night, we lost all our chickens, but two, to a fox. The fox took a guinea the night before, and so Saturday night Dan and I got out to lock in the hens in what we thought was plenty of time. It was dusk. When I stepped out onto the porch I could hear the commotion. I ran back inside to get my big, heavy Mag flashlight,  (What I was going to do with it, I have no idea. I'm not that brave.) And called up to Dan, who was snuggling the girls, in my most "calm, but I need you right away" voice.

He jumped into boots and tore off across the yard. I jumped in the car and raced into the second driveway so I could shine my headlights on the coop. We were too late.

We scared the fox off, but she'd left a battle field in the grass around the coop. It was devastating.

I honestly can't get over this one so easily. I try not to think that this is all my fault. That there they were, nestled in their coop, just waiting for me to lock them in safely for the night. That if I hadn't done this or that, dilly-dallying before I went out to lock them in, I would have gotten there in time. I feel like I'm failing as a "farmer", with all this loss we've been experiencing lately.

I try not to think that these are the hens that my grandmother gave to my girls.

Dan comforts me saying that if it wasn't Saturday night, it would have been Sunday, or Monday, or….that this kind of thing happens to all farmers. That it's not a reflection of what kind of caretaker I am. But still. It's hard. And sad. I loved those stupid chickens.

I don't know where I'll go from here. I don't think I'm up for another round of chicks in my downstairs bathroom right now. Dan wants to buy some grown hens from my uncle, to keep our last two girls company. One of our hens hasn't even come out of the coop since this all happened. I feel like I want things to settle down before we bring more chickens into our apparent "take out diner" for foxes.

We'll see. I'm sure more hens will be here someday soon.

Meanwhile, if you want to ignore the above post and move on, I busied my mind over the weekend with some blog remodeling–a new banner, new sidebar stuff, and I brought back the short list of good things. So, if you feel like moving on, why not click over and let me know what you think of the new look.

And I promise, less depressing posts the rest of the week.

As always, thanks for listening and following along on this journey.

{photo coutesy of katie pertiet}

the final count

I almost didn't write this post this morning, for fear I might win some award for Internet's Most Depressing Blog. But since you've all been on this journey with me, I can't help but share it with all of you.

Saturday night, we lost all our chickens, but two, to a fox. The fox took a guinea the night before, and so Saturday night Dan and I got out to lock in the hens in what we thought was plenty of time. It was dusk. When I stepped out onto the porch I could hear the commotion. I ran back inside to get my big, heavy Mag flashlight,  (What I was going to do with it, I have no idea. I'm not that brave.) And called up to Dan, who was snuggling the girls, in my most "calm, but I need you right away" voice.

He jumped into boots and tore off across the yard. I jumped in the car and raced into the second driveway so I could shine my headlights on the coop. We were too late.

We scared the fox off, but she'd left a battle field in the grass around the coop. It was devastating.

I honestly can't get over this one so easily. I try not to think that this is all my fault. That there they were, nestled in their coop, just waiting for me to lock them in safely for the night. That if I hadn't done this or that, dilly-dallying before I went out to lock them in, I would have gotten there in time. I feel like I'm failing as a "farmer", with all this loss we've been experiencing lately.

I try not to think that these are the hens that my grandmother gave to my girls.

Dan comforts me saying that if it wasn't Saturday night, it would have been Sunday, or Monday, or….that this kind of thing happens to all farmers. That it's not a reflection of what kind of caretaker I am. But still. It's hard. And sad. I loved those stupid chickens.

I don't know where I'll go from here. I don't think I'm up for another round of chicks in my downstairs bathroom right now. Dan wants to buy some grown hens from my uncle, to keep our last two girls company. One of our hens hasn't even come out of the coop since this all happened. I feel like I want things to settle down before we bring more chickens into our apparent "take out diner" for foxes.

We'll see. I'm sure more hens will be here someday soon.

Meanwhile, if you want to ignore the above post and move on, I busied my mind over the weekend with some blog remodeling–a new banner, new sidebar stuff, and I brought back the short list of good things. So, if you feel like moving on, why not click over and let me know what you think of the new look.

And I promise, less depressing posts the rest of the week.

As always, thanks for listening and following along on this journey.

{photo coutesy of katie pertiet}