~ Sitting and staring at the wonderful ginger-like in-season Jerusalem artichokes and wondering what the heck to do with them.
Occasionally with a culprit or two (or four – we love the neighbours) attached.
This hole, below, had a map strewn on the ground next to it. I'm not kidding. This is completely unguided by me, although am all for them digging up priceless pirate treasure. Knock yourselves out, smallies.
Map by Tilly.
~ Experiencing free-range baby. And trying to find the balance between letting her feel the ground and needing to carry her around so I know where she is.
~ Ending each day with a couple of chapters of classic Enid Blyton.
Ivy's not as riveted as the other two but she's still young. There's time to thoroughly inculcate her with Enid Blyton yet.
Hope your Thursday had some buried treasure.
I try to remember when time's measure
painfully chafes, for instance when autumn
flares out at the last, boisterous and like us longing
to stay – – – how everything lives, shifting
from one bright vision to another, forever
in these momentary pastures.
From Fall Song, Mary Oliver