smiles

When you do a lot of weeding (a lot of weeding! no one mentioned how much rain there had been here in my absence), your mind works through complicated questions and usually takes you someplace interesting.






I have two themes that are running through my mind this morning: creeping jenny and adventuring with Ed.

But first, breakfast. On the porch. (The pink flowers on the table: hydrangea "strawberries and cream.")






Now onto weeding.

Creeping Jenny (aka bindweed, but creeping jenny is such a nicer name for a noxious plant, don't you think?) has taken over our veggie patch. Ed has though of a way to possibly contain it and today, I inspected his strategy: lots and lots of paper cups (and bowls) to cover the vine as it first creeps up and out of the ground.






Pulling it out doesn't help. A new weed (or two or three) sprouts within days. Digging it up is pointless. The root can extend many  many feet below and you're never really getting at the source of the problem. Toxic chemicals are a possible solution, but we're not going to go there. So we're trying the cups. It really is weird to see all those cups out in the field.

So I think about weeds and plants and our way of gardening.








(the girls)


My second theme for this morning is the adventure I'm to have with Ed next week. This morning, I nearly backed out. With his blessing. Ed does not like watching me fret and worry. But after many calls to our intended July destination, I was coaxed into a less anxious attitude about the whole thing so that for now, our adventure is preserved. But I did spend a considerable time of morning hours on working through all the possible things that could go wrong. (There are many!)


In the afternoon, I go to Snowdrop's home. Hi there, littlest one!



(with her mom)




(with her dad)


I have a most wonderful walk with this little girl and her mom. We do our longest trek --  all the way to the zoo and back and I have to smile at our attitude -- that of old timers now. The first time Snowdrop was at the zoo, we pointed out all the animals. This time? It was more like this:
She's dozing, should we wake her?
Oh, let's let her sleep. Giraffe? Eh, she'll see the giraffe another time.


And then I take the little girl home, to the farmhouse, where I continue to be immensely impressed with how quickly she is growing. I end with pictures of her. Of course I do.



(so much independence!)





(so much laughter!)





(I come back to letting her try something new: carrots and apples!)





(she tries to keep an open mind...)


I smile at her messy face. Or maybe it's that she just makes us all smile. Again and again.