As I said in yesterday’s post, it was a beautiful day here in Michigan. Sunny, warm with a gentle cooling breeze, really the stuff that dreams and pictures are made out of. School is getting out and my youngest boy likes to walk home on these nice days instead of riding in the car. Can’t say that I blame him there.
He bounds up the front porch steps, all smiles with his hand behind his back. I wonder, what can he be hiding back there. . . A snake? A frog? No no , maybe it’s a worm or a turtle. . . You never really know with young boys do you?
Daffodil in a pot made by the Boy
My baby had stopped to pick his mom a Daffodil. Now, as a gardener, property owner, adult I know it’s frustrating to have some random kid pick your precious pretty flowers. I get it. But, at that moment my mushy, filled to bursting, mom heart melted. It was the sweetest thing. On his walk home, my boy, the run jump climbing boy, the one who later that night would bury his legs and feet in dirt and sand at the baseball field “just for fun” boy thought enough of a flower to stop and want to bring it home to his mom. Priceless.
Today, on the way to school, we had a talk about the importance of leaving flowers where we find them so that others can enjoy their beauty and about that even though they are in “nature” it is someone’s flower. Even though, secretly, I was still mushy and happy, seeing that pretty yellow flower that my baby picked just for me, on my window sill.
Even the Kitten likes to smell the flowers