Small Things for Small People

 

The grandchildren are coming--we get so excited! All around the house are small things for their small hands: small figures (our grandson calls them his 'guys'), small books, small houses, small animals.

We found the miniature (two inches high) pottery bunny house for fifty cents at a thrift shop. I probably love it as much as the kids will.

The blue shelf was an antique store find. The two frogs on bottom come from a local shop, Bullfrog Corner, a child's haven of toy animals and critters.

The white bear, also from Bullfrog Corner, is not so small, but it is soft and squishy and beloved.

After speaking at a book conference in Savannah, Georgia, a couple years ago, we had time to stroll around and discovered in a small shop this etching of giraffes and elephants–perfect!

And finally, of course, there are books: on desks and bureaus and tables and shelves, on floor and counters and beds. Books, books, books.

With all the small things, the kids make up their own stories, and when they're done, we read the books, books, books. Of course there are books!

Wordless

Today at the beach, noon, a stunning rainbow all around the sun (above) and scattered skybows here and there (below):

Sometimes it's best to be wordless.  So I'll be quiet now.

More Spring

When spring springs, it surely springs--boing! Was all that bounty really hiding beneath the brown and gray and snow all these months? What a show.

Does it make you want to clean the windows? The house? The nest? Stay outside all day?  It makes me want to do all those things, but the new story is also springing to life. Let me out! it demands. Listen to me! Okay, okay, okay.

While the bushes and trees sprout hundreds of leaves and blossoms each day, I'm only sprouting five pages a day. That's a good pace for me, though.  I used to be able to do twenty pages a day, but stories emerge more slowly and carefully now, and they are more fully formed when they do emerge.

And after I write, I'm outside. Are you?

Beach Day

To the beach with my grand-nephew today. I've yet to meet a child who does not love the beach, all that wide open space to roam, and sand, waves, water, shells, and critters. Here's one critter we almost stepped on:

And here are a few of the shells that came home with us. We like the small, imperfect ones:

And you, do you like the beach?

A North Carolina Day

It's one of those North Carolina blue sky spring days and the wind is blowing and the birds are winging and singing and the pollen is making it all a fuzzy sort of day.

Those new buds on the tree opened up overnight, and that's how a new story is arriving, too: with each morning a new revelation, like something opening up in a burst. I tried to stop it–I'm not ready–wait–but it won't be stopped.

Outside, the dogs are losing their hair (and horses, too, I've learned from Lori Skoog), and even the trees seem to be shedding. Don't you love birch trees?

The tall pines are whipping their heads around, shaking pollen from their hair . . .

And me, I am outside, looking around . . .are you?