While I Carried A Slumbering Baby

They stole my flip flops and were pleased to discover they become boats just as handily as sticks do.


They laughed, and they also did other things. (Yup, I'm getting tired of plunking out the obvious to accompany each snapshot.)

The End

I backtracked homeward by following damp prints.


They stretched the walk with minnow and crayfish hunting



with scampering off


and with treasure sorting (because a cruel mother refused to let her take ALL the boulders home in her dress).

With A Purpose

The impetus for our picnic was a pressing need for me to gather sticks to finally turn this dead bird into this one.




It was sent to this girl, who as my dear friend knows better than to expect things in a timely fashion. I sent it with a pillow on the occasion of her birthday, a joyful day perfectly suited for Very Late Gifts. I was supposed to make this gift a year and a half ago for a yurt-warming gift, and then a bit later for an anniversary gift, and then after that for a Christmas gift. Finally, four days before her birthday, I thought I should probably start it.

Here's the pillow, stuffed full of fond wishes for a warm yurt-happy anniversary- merry Christmas-blessed birthday.


It's not perfect, but it's done. And that's saying something!

More!

I think that the phrase, "It's the thought that counts" is stupid when it comes to my thoughts. I have lots of thoughts-- enough to spare-- but few actually make it out of my head, so carving out the will and time to implement the thoughts should probably be worth more than the thought itself. I know it's silly and vain to electronically display every little thing one makes, but when one makes so few....well, give me a break.

I made two baby gifts before Piper arrived. The gifts were for babies who were nearly a year old and were to celebrate the occasion of their birth. (Yup. Late follow-through again. I'm really good at it.)

The babies are first cousins to each other-- Selah Paix and John Fox-- and were born a month or two apart.





I cut out fabric, machine-sewed it onto the onesies, and then embroidered their names. It didn't take long, and I have no excuse for it taking a year.





Now, if I can only make some for my nephews Simeon and Nicholas before they're a year old, I'm good to go.

How To

To warm your own yurt or to decorate onesies for Very Late Gifts, draw the desired picture in the correct size on paper, cut it out, bond it to cloth of your choice using a glue stick (or make it easier by tracing it onto something similar to this stuff which you can then iron directly to the cloth). Cut the shape out of fabric and applique it to the background using my mom's magical sewing machine (it has an amazing blanket stitch feature), and then add a bit of hand embroidery.

I just totally confused myself, but it makes perfect sense if my mother's nearby.

Postlude

Last night, John went for a walk to the park with us. Annie told him all about her bridge, and so we went there straightaway.

He tested it first.




I had Piper in one arm and the camera in the other, which was probably a good thing, because it kept me from taking a boatload of pictures of one of the most fun bridges I've walked across.


The mystery is this. Near the bridge was a rangy hobo's campsite, plastic bottle pit and all. Several one-walled makeshift shelters were scattered about, for, I assumed, windbreak during camping.


I lowered the girls and Piper down to John before scrambling down myself, and we followed the crickbed to the road. Much further down we found a pump with one hose end lowered into a deep pool. We followed the other end to these apparently abandoned greenhouses




and several more of these, which bore no evidence of camping but seemed a derelict's artwork, scattered with a liberal hand along the crick's path.



We left when a car pulled into an unseen drive, and Annika started bellowing out that she was scared.

To be continued, when we poke our heads into the greenhouses and discover marijuana growing inside...

Glamour Shot

Really, the title says it all. Look at our well-coiffed hair!

At Its Finest

Mighty patriotism on July 4th.

We woke up to great heat, and John took us to the park pool and carousels. Thank you again, George F., for suffering through a stinted childhood that blossomed into free pools and carousels for us.



This was the girls' third or fourth time in a pool, though their first time in this one, with its two feet deep steeped in danger and thrill.

Piper and I sat under an umbrella and embroidered while John and Susannah soaked their toes.





Millie asked Susannah if she'd like to come in



and laughed at the surely spoken, "Neeoooooo."



The Wren did eventually wet her feathers.


Contrary to appearances, Annie was not a wallflower.



A Nixie is a water pixie, after all.




And Millie remains convinced that she learned to swim.

Even More

Patriotism!

Susannah fell asleep on our patriotic journey to the grocer's--
destination: hot dogs.



We patriotically ate homemade fudge sauce, strawberry sauce, and banana splits.



And Susannah made me laugh with her patriotic face.



See? Patriotism!

But Not Quite Enough

We lacked the patriotic spirit that lets one's children stay up after a long day for a long night of sparklers. Sorry.

We did let them sparkle a bit a week later, though. Millie loved them from the start.



She danced and spun around the lawn, singing impromptu songs about her wand of light and lighting the magic path, and such like lyrics.




Annie was scared for a long time, but she finally joined in, too,



and liked it.



This picture is hard to decipher, but when I saw one giant zucchini plant glowing, I walked over to investigate. Two vegetable gnomes were utilizing their lantern to check for squash.
Zucchini inspection is best done in the dark, I hear.

Owens Galore

Great Grandma and Uncle Ben came to visit! We don't get to visit with them very often, and I didn't want to be the paparazzi, so I only took three pictures, two in bad lighting. Oops.

Here's Grandma with Piper.




And Grandma with all the girls.