these trees shall be my books

the button mother-load. for a little bit of money i was able to bring them home. fabulous. many black and white variations on the button. i'm ever-so-excited. something must be done. something with buttons. i'm inspired to string and stitch.





places selling plants are practically giving them away -- go out and be given (in exchange for a few pennies, i'm serious, not much at all). a few more things added to this year's project. my ten year plan (!) is to become a master gardener and be a stop on the garden walk. my neighbor has the most glorious shady yard with mysterious minatiature gardens here and there. a woman around the corner has a huge garden that honestly looks like it crept from the pages of a magazine and took up residence on the two hundred block of elm street. last weekend ernie, my mother and i took the garden walk maps and walked around them. more inspiration. my neighbor's yard is liveable, especially for children, with sturdy plants that won't fall over in a wilted heap if they're stepped on by bare little feet. i didn't know this was possible, imagining glory gardens to be like the one around the corner, fancy and fragile, beautiful yet stressful if little ones are around, asking for punitive shrieking at the slightest ramble off of the path. and yet it is possible to have children and plants in the same place, stray balls and water guns notwithstanding. and so we begin . . .

we've the good fortune of inheriting bricks that were taken from the road in front of my parents' house before it was covered smooth in black. there are more that need wheel-barrowing down the street, but look at what we (read: henry and mama) tested last night before dark! with the rest of the bricks, some sand, hard work, more plants, time and water and we're there!



"he hath a daily beauty in his life."