Smush & Elven Groves

The pasture has been completely overrun by multiflora rose (whose name I know only because Debbie used it and whose name Debbie knows only from listening to my mother curse their invasive thorns with blight and everlasting torment). Anyway, the wrath of multiflora rose made our walk a little less pleasant, and when we finally reached the crick, nap-hungry Susannah had about had it with daisies and cricks and butterflies and mulitflora rose.

Sandwiched in between a bad beginning and a weepy ending, though, was a wonderful block of time at one of my favorite childhood haunts.



There was more algae at the crick than I've ever seen there before, and in the deep end, it carpeted the bottom over ankle-deep. "Smush," Annie called it, as she fished it with a stick.






Here Annie tried in vain to lead Millie out because the Smush enveloping her legs lost its appeal.



Millie remained in love with Smush and murky water both.


I've always loved this little elven grove of hardwood, and Deb must, too, because she shared it with Millie. Before we left, Millie showed it to Annie, and we walked through its hush and rustle, all shot through with sunlight and blue.