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Lemonade Afternoons & Dandelion Evenings

Yesterday was the perfect spring day.  Sky crisply blue with tissue paper clouds torn and scattered all over the sky at just the right spots.  Everything bright and brilliant. Vivid spring flowers dotted the countryside as we drove country roads going home from a field trip.  Yellow weeds highlighting all of the pasture land. It's the time of year when grass is new and deeply green. 
My two youngest and I had just went on a field trip with preschool. The baby lulled to sleep and Moriah sang quiet songs to herself as we drove home.  When we reached one of the main roads home I found myself turning right instead of left. I had a lot of housework to do and dinner to make before everyone else got home.
But I felt restless and decided to go see my mom.
I whispered to Moriah, "If Pimmy  (what they call their grandma) isn't here we won't be staying," I wanted to make sure that she wouldn't have a melt down if we pulled up to the fun house and didn't stay.  I halfway didn't expect to see my mom's car, but she was there. A chorus of standing tulips of all colors and varieties greeted us as we walked up the sidewalk.  Moriah stopped down to clutch at striped tulip petals and tug them off to hand to her grandma at the door. I found my mom in the kitchen.  She handed me a glass of lemonade she had just hand squeezed all the pulp swirling around the cloudy pitcher.  The perfect mix of sweet and tart.  Sitting in the shade letting the glass sweat in my hand Moriah's gentle words floated through the spring breeze.
Moriah picked a variety flowers and we left my mom's with Moriah's bouquet.
Blossom confetti exploded all over the floor of the car as I tried to salvage what flowers were left after Moriah had played with them in the car. 
Coming home we opened the windows and I tried to coax myself to get everything done. 
I felt gently reenergized.  After making myself some green tea I filled a glass with the blossoms that survived our car ride home and set them on the table.

My mom's cherry trees.  Every year we make wreathes for the girl's hair.  I never get over those trees.  It's always like seeing them for the first time. 

Moriah's bouquet

I never get tired of spring.  Ever.
After the austere nature of winter the fragile, delicate beauty of a warm spring day can calm you and revive you in ways that not much else can. 
My house was brimming over with chores to do and I did a few of them but when everyone got home we headed back outside.  Sidewalk chalk scribbled down the sidewalks the dust cloaking baby boy's pants.  Neighbors came over to chat.  One neighbor brought her new born over and we stood barefoot in the grass marveling over the baby's  shiny gold hair and her tiny head. 
"Can we go to the park tonight?" I asked my husband and so we did.
It was after seven and no one had eaten a thing. 
We spent the evening outside.
The girls swiftly ran through the large grassy field to the see saw.  Little boy climbed up the steps of the slide and tentatively sat in the swing.  He never quite smiled in the swing, but a smile sliced across his face at every trip down the slide.  This park had a lake trail and a small creek that dropped into a kid sized waterfall. As twilight fell and the sky blurred to periwinkle we raced stick boats down the creek. 
The grass was cool and damp and my baby boy and I sat watching his sisters' elation at the waterfall.  His eyes widened and then cut to mine and he would laugh. His eyes danced with the evening.  Watching him enjoy outside again after a cold winter is fascinating.  Everything is new to him.  This year he can walk instead of crawl across the grass and fall into thick patches of clover giggling only to rise up again and do it all over. 



Little boy joy at spring
girl's leg's tangling as they crab race to daddy

As night's velvety black curtain fell over the sky Keith said, "We have to go."  I didn't know what time it was, but the girls did have school and I nodded in agreement.  For the next ten minutes we tried to make it back to the car.  Halfway through the grass the girls laid down on a basketball court and looked for the first star.
Then the girls spied all of the dandelions littering the grass beside the court.  Moriah loves dandelions.  They might as well be an exotic bird of paradise bloom because to her they are the wishing things.  "Look at all of the wishing things!" Her small fingers punctuated her sentence. 
Madelyn and Moriah picked one wishing bloom after another and filled the night air with falling dandelion wisps.  There were declarations of wishes some silly and some simple. 
I liked Moriah's wish the most, "I wish for a dandelion spring day!" she yelled across the grass of the spring night.
I smiled looked up at the moon's crescent smile above me. "Me too, "I nodded. "I want your wish too, Moriah."
As we got in the car and rolled home at almost nine I felt so relaxed.  I hadn't fed anyone and knew dinner would be very simple.  I wasn't hungry and no one else really seemed to be.  Spring had fed us. 


Looking for the first star and finding it :)

Wishing for another dandelion spring day

Comments

  1. Hi Somer,
    What a beautiful piece about spring you've written and the fresh joys that await us every season. I can just picture your girls and their love of flowers and can imagine you're enjoying spring through your baby boy's eyes -- which is probably different from your girls' -- and what fun that is going to be throughout the years! There's just something about renewal that bursts forth in our souls in spring and gives us new hope for the days ahead. I can imagine that spring in Virginia must be gorgeous! love to you! xoxo

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