How does your garden grow?

It's almost safe to say that we've had the last frost here. Not a guarantee, of course, but we were confident enough to plant the front garden again. I mostly concerned myself with mowing and fertilizing the lawn, while Paul and Deborah planted the impatiens we had picked out that morning.

What goes next here? A pink-and-white striped one?

Aiden helped.

Fiona worried me by playing with the more pointy tools.

We had a few left over, so we took them over to Paul's apartment and planted them by his front steps. This apparently inspired Paul and his roommate to spend the rest of the day cleaning and making improvements to the apartment.

I can't put my finger exactly on what I like about this picture. Maybe it's the composition, or the flowers on her dress and by the steps, or the contrast of the old and the weathered against the fresh and the new. Whatever. I like it.

Beautiful Flowers

While we were playing out in the field behind our house, Fiona came up to me and said, "I have a be-yooo-tiful flower for you, Daddy!"

You think I'm going to tell her they're weeds? No way, baby.

I was touched, and went to fetch a camera to record the moment. Of course, that kind of attention doesn't go unnoticed. If Daddy reacts that way yo one flower...

...then a whole handful must be even better!

You'd be forgiven for confusing Fiona's hand and mine. Except for calluses and the ring, the only difference is size. It was one of the first things I noticed about her when she was born.

I briefly considered this as a means to dandelion control, but, for now, we'll be happy with sentiment. :-)

A nice mug of cold chocolate

So it's supposed to be Spring? Don't worry! A nice mug of cold chocolate will cool you right down again!

A Wonderful Warm Weekend

You couldn't beat the weather this weekend. The temperature was all the way up in the 50s and 60s. The vast wastelands of slush and mud were receding, and there was no reason to stay inside whatsoever.

Saturday morning, I volunteered to take Deborah's sewing machine to be repaired — in Marion, a good 65 miles away. On the motorcycle. (Of course!) She'd been pining to have it repaired for some time, but the local repairman evidently either didn't know how much of a gem a Singer Featherweight is, or was trying to cheat us out of it by offering us $40 on it as a trade-in — and neither interpretation inspired much confidence. So with the case ratcheted down to the passenger seat, and a big grin on my face, off to Marion I went, to a shop where we've had it worked on before. I tried to make out like I was doing Deborah a great service, but she wasn't buying it. She knew I just wanted to go for a long ride.

Along the way, stopped at a light in Wabash, I saw this building, which I'll let speak for itself.

How do you get a chicken drunk, anyway? They drink like birds!

Sunday afternoon was even warmer and sunnier.

Paul found a Frisbee that the kids hadn't stepped on, and several of us retreated to the back yard. Deborah said she'd be out once Fiona woke up from her nap.

Deborah catches one

May grabs gracefully

Paul plays with a handicap

Even Fiona got into it!

Deborah brought a Koosh ball to add to the mix. So after a while of simultaneous 3-way frisbee and 3-way catch, the game turned into something akin to shooting skeet. (Or Calivinball; I miss Calvin and Hobbes...) One person would throw the Frisbee, and the other person would try to knock it down with the Koosh ball. We teased Paul about not being able to hit the Frisbee, saying it wasn't his fault, because the reticle hadn't turned red yet — a lighthearted jab at his video game playing.

Deborah, knocking the Frisbee out of the air.

It was many hours before hunger drove us back inside.