Every single year I am once again amazed at how many wild shasta daisies there are all over the place. They grow in the forest. They grow in the meadows. They grow on people’s lawn right in the middle of the grass. We drove to Ely last Saturday and there were huge bushes of shasta daisies filling the ditches the whole way. I felt like I should tell Dr. Peds to stop the car so I could go into the ditch and dig up the daisies and transplant them or something. They were just unbelievably huge and full of twinkling blossoms.
Shasta daisies always make me think of my mom. She grows them in flower beds and she used to have lots in our garden when I was a little girl. They are one of her favorite flowers.
The shasta daisies in the above photographs are growing right in the middle of my yard. Yes, my yard. In my neighborhood, when wildflowers show up in chunks (usually because a home owner gets busy and lets the lawn get a bit extra long before mowing) people just leave a patch of wild grass and plants and mow the rest of the lawn. The shasta daisies showed up next to the front sidewalk, so Dr. Peds just mowed around them when he did the rest of the lawn last week, and this week they are blooming in a wild and crazy fashion. I love my little wilderness section on the front lawn.
Today I took The Banana and YaYa to a local neighborhood fabric store to buy fabric for Squirmy’s birthday flag and birthday table cloth. I prepared myself for grouchy, bored girls. I was ready to make some fast and furious fabric decisions. It turned out that both of them were completely enamored with the small and adorable fabric store. It really did have beautiful, and unique fabric in it, and it was all arranged so artistically that it made me want to love fabric more than I did. It was an inspiring little place, and the girls were just completely in their element. They thought of all sorts of projects for all of their favorite fabrics, and examined everything so closely. They zoomed around with dreamy, glassy eyes, and made big plans to take Grandma Robbie to the fabric store the next time she comes. We left with a little special fabric for them, too.
Mr. SP has been spending every morning this week at Fort Camp at the nature center. It is fun to see him so excited about an activity, and even more fun to find out everyday that his favorite part of the morning is not only building great forts and shelters in the forest, but is listening to his camp instructor read out loud from Gary Paulson’s Hatchet. I can guarantee that if the book isn’t finished by Friday that we will have to make a trip to the library to check it out and finish it here at home. He comes home and talks about the story every day.
Mr. SP is working on a writing project, recording some of his favorite scenes from Yellowstone National Park. Each journaling page that I printed from the computer has a box for illustrating and some lines for writing. We are going to bind the pages together into a book. So far he has written about how a large bison walked right in front of our car, and how another bison “went scat” right next to our car. He was adamant about using the word “scat” rather than the word “poop” because he said, “I think scat is just much more appropriate for a book.” First of all, I found it curiously amusing that the buffalo waste made his list of highlights in Yellowstone, and secondly, I found it highly endearing that he tried to be such a gentleman about it, when deep inside I am pretty sure he was relishing the nastiness of the event like any boy would.
The Banana has started piano lessons with a fierce determination like you might not ever have seen before. I love it. She couldn’t wait any longer to start, and I finally decided, why not? She waits all day every day to do her practicing when Squirmy is asleep and not distracting us.
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