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.

Upstream

We walked upstream to the fenceline, and Huck joined Annie.


She played in a hollow of shady moss until her lips turned purple


so I found her a patch of spillover sun.




Susannah all dappled with gold and green.

Downstream

Before we walked home, we went downstream a bit because I wanted to find some mint to bring home. Instead, we found a hideaway


with dead moths inside.

Ripe blackcaps and wild raspberries that we scrambled to pick first but were forced to share, anyway.




And a huge crayfish, of which I have no picture.

The End.

Weeds

Whose delicate lines in the sun are worth more than these three pictures.

Just Friends

On the walk home, I disturbed these two.
I'm sure they were only talking, anyway...

In Closing

After supper, Mom held Piper as the sun set



and a little Wren tormented my Dad.

Q

While they did this, I took pictures of curly things.

Grapevine dwarfs a tiny speck of moon.


More vine.


And more.




And a ring of garlic planted in Mom's flower garden, going to seed and descended from these. Who knew garlic was so curly?

Porkling

I should probably only post flattering pictures of Piper.


Nah. This one's too funny.

Piper's First Picnic

Bright streams electric enlivened our limbs, thanks to the packs that Grandma O. left behind. Annika justified it by saying, "Soda is kind of healthy, right, Mom?"

Nope, but it made our picnic fancy!



The Great Butterfly Chase begins.





And then it ends.


Millie thinks the common sulfur butterflies like these patches of grass because they're disguised perfectly within them. See the white spot on the fence? "That's no spot," she says, "it's a butterfly!"





That's no Millie. It's a bear in the bushes!



Just like before.


Except now, she rides like a pro.



Before we walked over to the crick, they tried their best to be swingers of birches with the apple tree on hand.




And Susannah honored me with gnarly globes too early and tart to eat.

As Far As Can Be

Annika was very excited when I told them they could explore as far as they wanted to.



She was even more excited when this exploration yielded fruit in the form of a handmade bridge, suspended by letters over our heads.

Skeered, My Foot!

Susannah is a strange child. She plays the drama queen so fully that she ends up convincing herself. Here, she sits "skeered." She was so skeered to step into inches of water that she sat on the bank and looked pitiful in an attempt to soften my heart.


I played the sucker and lifted her over, only to watch her happily splash through the next half dozen puddles.


And again, she's so skeered as her sisters throw stones.


But two seconds later, she was lobbing rocks at their heads.