Source: Irresistible Ideas for Play Based Learning
I was somewhat depressed this week by the realisation that of my five new year's resolutions last year, I only managed to tick off one (and, in the spirit of full disclosure, my father actually completed this on my behalf).
I still don't keep chickens, there is no Pete Beale style market stall for the kid's to flog their produce, the school has singularly failed to take up my offer of helping with Gardening Club, and most pathetic of all, I can't seem to blog on even a weekly basis.
So I've decided to treat my resolutions on the same basis as I treated every single weekly essay in college. I shall ask for an extension.
I shall also... hmmm, how shall I put this? Cheat. A bit. Just, you know, to make sure I keep this blog a little less sporadic.
Yes, much in the same way I always borrowed Jen's revision notes because they were more thorough than mine, better thought through and best of all, legible, I shall, on occasion, use a blog post to point you towards superior content online. This will hopefully mean you see interesting things, whilst I can bathe in the reflected glory of someone else's genius.
This week, a sandpit caught my eye. I spotted it on the Studio 'g' blog but the original idea was actually from Irresistible Ideas for Play Based Learning - an Australian blog. Very simple, very cheap (provided you can find a tyre to recycle) and incredibly effective. The long bamboo poles can be covered with sailcloth or a similar outdoor material but you could just use an old sheet and simply accept it will have a shorter lifespan.
For anyone offended by the black rubber exterior, it would be easy enough to plant around the edges and soften the look. In a sunny spot, something like Stipa tenuissima would give movement and is a very tactile plant for kids.
Oh I think it's compulsory to break all NY resolutions by the end of January on principle and as a warning to self not to do anything so silly again.
That studio G blog is just gorgeous. Currently lusting after the garden swings they have there... and that bridge in the Netherlands is just superb. Better not site it anywhere tidal though :D
Posted by: The Constant Gardener | January 16, 2012 at 02:25 PM
CG - I know, those swings are truly works of art. Completely wasted on kids!
Posted by: Dawn | January 16, 2012 at 06:59 PM
I never make New Year resolutions but I'm wondering whether to make a list of what happened in 2011 and say that is what I intended. Instant success.
Posted by: Esther Montgomery | January 16, 2012 at 07:01 PM
I havent made mine yet...the reason being I like a good bit of time to chew possibilities over and I had a big cold over the festive season *encourages collective ahhhhhh*. I shall do so before the end of the month, honest.
Good luck with failing on yours with at least a reasonable degree of style
Posted by: Mark D | January 17, 2012 at 10:53 AM
Esther - That is genius. Retrospective resolutions, here I come!
Mark - It might be best you avoid resolutions altogether. It will only result in you planting a whole field with the rare Unba-lunga tree from which, in 20 years time, you will harvest half a basket of fruit. No-one needs that. x
Posted by: Dawn | January 17, 2012 at 11:09 AM
Love your blog Dawn. And I really appreciate the advice you game me recently. It has made me bounce back with a gung-ho attitude, though it's mostly in spirit right now as my body is full of virus. I'm doing a giveaway over at my blog btw x
Posted by: Lorna Watson | January 17, 2012 at 01:51 PM
Hi Lorna - I'm so pleased you're feeling more positive (in spirit at least). By the way, I have been trying to leave comments on your blog but failing - not sure if it's me or the technology (let's face it - it's probably me...)
Posted by: Dawn | January 17, 2012 at 02:11 PM
Thanks for letting me know. Something strange is going on because someone else has had the same problem but others have been able to comment. You can 'like' my facebook page to be included in the giveaway.
Posted by: Lorna Watson | January 18, 2012 at 09:05 PM