365 days already.
We are all madly in love.
Yes, she’s reading about lavender!
“He is coming,” whispers Hare.
“Who is coming?” Wolf asks.
“Bear Noel!” Hare cries.
from Bear Noel by Olivier Dunrea
Nuts and seeds.
Berries and sugar.
Across the snow.
Wait and hope.
Four kids, running through the house, can sometimes lead to a bit of extra creativity on the parenting front. During the recent Thanksgiving visit with our cousins, we decided a little bit of care for the birds was in order.
Simple, easy, and of course messy!
Paper towel or toilet paper rolls.
Spread, smear, roll and hang!
And now, as the snow begins to fall again and the temperatures dip lower, we rest easy, knowing our little feathered friends have a bit of extra seed in their bellys when they sing up at the winter sky.
I gifted a small treasure to my son this summer. A small plant that enchanted me as my own love for plants was budding. A rock plant (Lithop spp.). It was a hit! How could a plant that looks like a stone, not be fascinating to a 6 year old boy?!
Then suddenly, in late October, we noticed it changing. Possibly from the southern sun, sitting lower on the horizon, reaching its warm rays into our sunroom. Over several weeks, a tender flower bud emerged. The waiting continued. Would it open soon? What color? It looks pink! How long will it stay open? Will it send out seeds?
Then last week, I casually glanced as I walked by. I saw the sunburst and shouted for all to come see!
We’ve had a long stretch of clear, blue, sunny days here. With accompanying cold temperatures, it is work to make our way outdoors. But each day when we do we are abundantly rewarded.
A natural rink, frosted glass, frozen windows to life below. And shadows and crunching and sliding and sparkling.
And the miracles of water and freezing and sunshine all at once.
From The Flowers by Robert Louis Stevenson
Fairy places, fairy things,
Fairy woods where the wild bee wings,
Tiny trees for tiny dames—
These must all be fairy names!
Tiny woods below whose boughs
Shady fairies weave a house;
Tiny tree-tops, rose or thyme,
Where the braver fairies climb!
Fair are grown-up people’s trees,
But the fairest woods are these;
Where if I were not so tall,
I should live for good and all.