One Summer Day

When I was a little girl, my dad took me for walks in the woods near our home on Gibbons Street. We walked in icy cold steams looking for interesting stones. My dad dug up a root and held it under my nose. "What does this smell like?", he asked. "ROOT BEER!", I squealed. It wasn't long before I began recognizing the sassafras root by the mitten shaped leaves on the tree.

Satchel has learned where the wild spearmint grows and now motions me to stop when we pass the plants. I pick two leaves for us to nibble.

Yesterday, while Satch and his Dada went for a drive and the cicadas began their round of music, I sat on the sun mottled lawn painting an antique metal porch glider that we purchased some years ago.


(I am obsessed with old metal gliders)





This morning I noticed the glistening web of a little orb weaver. I counted five small spiders that will soon grow to enormous proportions and must be encouraged to move to a new location 'else I'll be too creeped out to tend to my garden. Tiny nondescript moths flit about in the grass. (and still no fire flies)















The sunflowers are almost four feet tall, and the day lillies are blooming! There are sugar cookies cooling in the kitchen and the wee boy is napping on crisp cotton sheets.