The yard has exploded in green once again and Mark and I took the girls on a walk to see what we could find. The citrus is all in bloom, thousands of little white buds and green sparks of what will be summer lemonade or zest for a pie. The apple tree is actually blossoming, just when we thought it was likely lost. Vines snake along the ground, creeping up on unsuspecting tress and catching small feet as they tumble around. Lily collected bouquets of sour grass flowers, alternately clutching them to her, sticking blooms behind her ear or munching on the stems, giggling at the burst of sour flavor.
It’s my favorite time of year here on our little plot of land. Even the hip-high weeds gathering around the porch make me giddy; bending along with me as I walk through them, as though they want to share the journey and can’t quite uproot themselves in time, snapping back into place with a soft rustle like a sigh. I slipped on the hill yesterday and was pleasantly surprised when the impact was cradled by tall grass, catching me so I could swing Anya upwards and away from the ground, making her think this falling stuff was a game and not just the slippery feet of her oftentimes clumsy mother.
And best of all my girls: my beautiful girls clutching at pine cones, pulling up tall stalks of grass, marveling at bugs, giggling at the feel of a flower on their checks, “look at ‘dis, Daddy!” clapping hands in delight, and Anya signing “more” over and over, hungry for the riot of colors, of life of small things, the open sky above and the lush green grass a bed at their feet.
Click on the photo for more Spring Time on the Wannabe Hippie Homestead