Thank You Camera!

I love to take pictures of flowers for reasons unknown. Now, with a blog I have somewhere to put them. I was focusing on my daisys and then Lily just trots into the frame and smells one, with her tiny nose twitching like she does when we're holding a treat, probably to see if it is edible, but cute all the same. Usually when she does something of this cuteness I don't have my camera, but here she was cute and here my mom's camera was, charged.

The picture does have it's flaws, you can't see Lily's eyes or nose, so she sort of just looks like a mass of billowing fur. Flaw number two, one of my daisies has brown spots. I think he's sunburned, can that happen to flowers?

I then proceeded to move to the back yard to see if I could get any good pictures of Lily there and, for some unkown reason, I got lucky enough to get:

I know she has pollen on her mouth, I think it's sort of cute. I also got a good picutre of her shaking.

Now, this post is a thank you to my mom's camera and the wonderful pictures that come with it.

The Spade That Glistened Like a New Knife

Mother and I dazedly browsed the isles of flowers at Lowe's. I was immediately won over by everything that was pretty; ignoring the practical, typical inpatients. Others sifted through the isles with an authority most likely emitting from the list of flowers they've already planned in their hands. I hand no plan I was just going to get some grass seeds for a science project, but I am an adept impulse shopper. I got to chose the flowers, me, without more than a hint of discretion from mom! We left with plastic pots full of colorful impracticality.

I needed to plant them all now while I was inspired. If I hesitated for a mere second I would lose all interest and they would wither in their plastic pots.

I scavenged all of the equipment I could find which only consisted of a child-size shovel, gloves and my shoes. The spade (of which I pride myself of knowing the name of) was probably rusting somewhere in our yard, a result of us assuming that "I can always get it later".

Lily was helping me; she trailed along behind me as I dragged the package of potting soil to the front door where the pots I was going to plant were. I got my shovel and removed the old, dry soil from the pots, from which a tree that we planted last (or the one before that...?) Christmas's offspring was sprouting. It was feeble and not nearly as lush as it's parent; it was a Charlie Brown tree. I looked across the street where a van with "(insert name here)'s gardening services" was printed in green. Behind that van, in front of our other neighbors was "(someone)'s landscaping" . I saw the workers come out with tools far superior to mine. Their spade shone like a new knife, their rake had no broken bristles, and they most definitely weren't using a child's size shovel.

I planted the plants before I got discouraged. I spent another forty minutes taking pictures of them. I didn't even bother to put the potting mix back, I can always get it later.

Cheese Please!

I haven't had cheese pizza after waiting in a line full of my own age group since I turned old enough to say "no, you can go right ahead". I hopefully wait in the back of the line with other vegetarians and some Jewish people on kosher diets. We chat, conspiring against the mass of cheese pizza hogging 7th graders, but, because we are the type of people who end up in the back of the line, no action ever comes of it. Our stomachs growl in unison, trying to provoke us into cutting. We all stand in a horizontal line in the back, no one in front or behind the other; an assembled mass of vegetarianism and mutted cries for cheese.

When we finally come to the front we hopefully peer into the buffet and then, finding no cheese, we move quitely along. We weren't even in line. Don't mind us.

Somehow we collect enough courage to confront the lunch lady who's expression was screaming "Don't make my job difficult!"

Us: "is there any cheese left?"

Lunch Lady: No.

Us: Will you be making anymore today?

Lunch Lady: No

Us: is there anything vegetarian?

Lunch Lady: You can pick off the sausage.

We all leave. We know that it leaves a taste and defeats the purpose. So we graze on the chips they sell.

I don't understand why the cafeteria even makes any sausage; everyone hates it. The pizza line concept makes no sense. The type of people who are vegetarians are usually the type that will let a hungry meat-eaters in front to take the coveted cheese pizza.

"No it's okay you can go right ahead"... ugh, curse my lack of assertiveness!

Anti-controversy-post-posting-note:

I have nothing against meat eaters, I apologize if I offended anyone. I'm a vegetarian for good reasons that I know thoroughly but I do not think meat-eaters are any worse than vegetarians. My vegetarianism was a personal decision so please do not judge me for it.

The Perfect Tree

Its branches were firm and only the light leaves moved in the gentle breeze. With each swell of air the call became louder "Princessparkle, come and climb on my perfectly climbable branches". Unfortunately, I was hearing the call from the other side of the blinded windows in church on this Easter morning. I sat there, anchored to my spot on the red velvet cushion on the pew. I could barley see the choir anyway- the backs of children's tiny Easter bonnets and their mother's fancy up-dos were blocking my view. So I continued to stare longingly out the window. I had to squint to see through the layer of dead mosquito and pollen to see that beautiful tree.

I was planning the route: fist I'd jump to the lowest branch which could be a trunk by itself then I'd extend my right hand to the branch above and to the right simultaneously moving my leg up. It must be some weird childish instinct to want to climb things. Maybe the only reason I wanted to climb it so badly was I couldn't in my mostly white Easter outfit (which, by the way, is perfect for frolicking through flowery meadows or, for say, climbing a tree but I wasn’t allowed wearing it).

The tree just sat there squandering perfectly good hand and foot holds to just look good on the church lawn. I imagined myself in it, the wind brushing against my skirt as I sit triumphantly at the top. I would not be climbing on it; I’d be climbing in it- it was that big.

Who plants such a tempting tree just so it can bother children like me? I imagine they thought they were doing a good deed; planting a tree for a church, but who knew that it would grow to be the most beautiful, climbable tree to grace this good city? Maybe they even planned it; "Now children, this, this tree right here, you will never get the opportunity to climb.". The loud Alleluia chorus was muffed by the taunting calls the tree, amplified by the wind. A child cried over the chorus and I didn't even look to see how adorable it was; I was hypnotized.

I bet that magnolia is standing in that spot right now, lonely, and climberless. I can almost here it begging for a climber…