Tuesday - 130th

You just get addicted to it and you can't stop. It's a problem.

I'm talking lily talk, of course.

I tried to be better at time management this morning: I got up earlier. But, the animals took longer to feed. Shed cats weren't ready, chickens got in the way of kitties -- it all was a muddle of animals coming and going, with me, trying to fill feeding stations while keeping everyone in their separate domains.

Then came the quick clean up of the garden. On childcare days, I told myself I'll only trim the beds that are in my immediate viewing range.

(a little support for this one goes a long way...)






(twins!)





(triplets!)





And no more than 200 lilies! Stop snipping after that, no matter what!






Well, 250 sounds more reasonable. Or maybe 300, alright, 400, 450...  I better check the clock. Gulp! How did it get to be so late??? Ed, breakfast, on porch, five minutes from now, hurry!

We do get our moment of quiet, over berries, peaches and cherries, but I swear, I'll go easy on morning gardening tomorrow. One hour max. For sure!







Yesterday, when the kids were dropped off, I immediately hustled them over to the blueberry bushes. But today, I hadn't a master plan. They were happy to run to me in the courtyard, I was happy to see them. But for whatever reason, Snowdrop then stopped dead in her tracks, eyes scanning the gardens, as if seeing them for the first time.






She is transfixed! She gushes!






... can't get enough of it.






It is decided that this should be our Flower Day! That art should be about flowers, that our discussion, reading, playtime should focus on them as well.

But in the end, we change courses. We read a book, the story line skirts around the beauty of fall. We finish it and now she is off to draw -- pumpkins, leaves falling, -- no flower in sight.

I'm enthusiastic about Snowdrop's return to art. Sparrow, too, is finding some pleasure in using markers, but eventually he gives it up and she is on her own, adding story detail to her picture. And then she picks up her art and hands it over to me.
You don't need to throw it away, but I don't want you to display it either. You can keep it, but don't show it to me anymore.
Why?
Because of the way the lines came out on one of the pumpkins that the penguin's holding.







Well, at least she isn't frustrated. Still, she is definitely a result-driven child. She's not going to be one of those who'll buy into the idea that it's all in the effort.

Sparrow, in the meantime, has moved onto books. Which he brings to me with great exuberance.






(When we aren't reading, he finds ways to make me laugh.)






And so passes the day. Oh, I cannot resist the ice cream picture. Kids and ice cream are such a perfect match!











On the ride home, science creeps into the conversation once again. It all started with another Snowdrop proclamation: not only birds lay eggs! From there it was a mere hop and a skip to a full blown discussion of reproduction, with a lecture from me on parental responsibility ("biological capability does not mean you should rush down that path!"), though by then she is focused on letting her water bottle drip water on the car seat while Sparrow laughs and laughs.

Afternoon, evening -- they are a blur of reading and writing. My days seem to follow this pattern and it's good one: I wind myself up like one of those toys you then let loose across your living room floor and then I slowly fizzle to a nice, easy pace. With taxes behind me, I have only a handful of "I must get this done or else!" items on my list. That's such a relief! It's as if I'm retired!

Later, much later, Primrose calls. Remember Me.... The song runs through my head the entire time we FaceTime.






Evening walk. Lilies in the setting sun. So gentle and sweet.





Like children, they coax that smile out of us. I'll leave you with their effortless beauty, hoping they'll coax a smile out of you as well.