The wonderful thing about old friends is how time spans turns of a calendar and conversations pick up right where they left off. Our children play together as comfortably as we did, laughing on ski runs and hanging in Montana peaks over a decade ago.
I’m not really a gardener. I mean, we have two thriving raised beds we eat from all the time. I don’t spend evening reading about NW plants, and I’ve learned to plant through trial and error, through tips of friends. I wouldn’t list it as a hobby, just something we stumbled into since it makes so much sense. We grow what we eat, we grow what we like. To some degree, the gardens of friends are a window into their side plates and a glimpse onto their salad forks. Each bed is different, beautiful in its own way and for that I love gardening. A garden has so much to tell about the gardener.
Over endless, albeit slow brewed coffee, we find our babes in the garden, naked and snacking on snap peas.
I find flowers I can only call by color for I’ve never seen them drawn in pencil on seed pouches, in seed catalogues. I’m mesmerized, and so are my daughters. From time to time, I catch them looking inside the folds, carefully running their fingers atop the bloom.
Betty plays with enough boys on the soccer field, on the ski run and in the corners of home to be able to talk enough Lego and Star Wars jargon. In a wooden lightsaber duel, she knocked Lu’s to the ground early on in the match, dove head first to pick up the discarded lightsaber, used both on her then-foe and single handedly, at that moment, won his heart. A few moments later, he gave her a bow and arrow he’d made in his dad’s shop. I just love how my girl can hang and hold her own.
Dinner is punctuated with a play. If I remember correctly, it was a silent one.
I think everyone was killed off, except the baby princess in the teepee. It was a great play.
My total score from Portland was the $9.99 Value Villiage Rody. I’d wanted one for years, but thought I should have got it for our first little cowgirl. Olive covets the little hoppy horses at the homes of friends, so I was thrilled to find one. I don’t know if you’ve been to a Value Village, but it’s like a thrift department store. Like someone picked through a Goodwill and super organized all aisles and cleaned the products. It’s cheap like a thrift store, just a bit more mall-ish. I always find amazing things, I always grab a cart expecting greatness. Maybe twice a year I go, it just never disappoints. Mainland excursions really are cherished.
I think it’s key to keep an open eye when thrifting and to expect the unexpected. I was over by the tube televisions, somewhere between laminate dressers and old school stationary exercise bikes. I saw something black and shiny with ears out of place atop a coffee table. Someone’s last minute decision to ditch Rody made our little girl very, very happy.
If there’s something around your home that found its way into your heart, something that has a story to tell I’d love to hear about it. If you recently came across something in your travels, I’d love to see it. Link up, link away. Or, just send me a virtual high five for finding something that makes our little cowgirl very, very excited.
I made a promise to help Olive carry Rody on the trail to the beach tomorrow. She wants to build her black pony a sandcastle. Sweet.