Kids say the darndest things

I fully accept that this was entirely my doing. But, you see, I've spent the greater part of my life learning about the natural world around me. So when Camden asks me something about nature, I am usually able to give a fairly detailed answer. I try very hard to keep it pared down, due to his age, but usually, I can't and usually, he understands because he's so intelligent!

So when we came across two cicadas doing it yesterday, and he asked me what they were doing... I told him. Okay, I told him they were "making eggs." He looked at me, then looked at them, then ran off to play. Wow, easy question with no follow ups. Awesome.

Later on, inside, he asks me to help him draw a cicada. So I draw a slightly cicadaish bug with a purple crayon. "I wanted it orange!" he says. Of course. So I draw another slightly cicadaish bug in orange. Then he asks me to cut them out. No problem.

I'm watching him play with his slightly cicadaish paper bugs, when he starts putting their butts together. "Look, they're making eggs!"

Oh gee.

Little bee

We found this bee on the way to the park while looking for silly earthworms that crawl onto the road and can't get back into the dirt before the sun bakes them.




I don't know why it let us harass it. I think something is wrong with it's wings, and now it can't fly. :(



At first I thought it might be a drone, but then I noticed the pollen baskets. I never did see a stinger on it, though.



"Imma get you!" she says.



Cam's happy to have a new friend for the day. Right now, she's living in one of our flower pots outside munching on a dandelion. Or maybe the clover.

Happy Mother's Day to all the moms out there. Hope your day is full of wonderfulness (mine most definitely was; bees are so cool!)

Plants

Last spring I wrote a lot about starting a garden. And then I didn't do it. The garden plots are half way across town and are almost not worth the effort. If my landlord would let me plant a garden right there in the yard, you can bet I would be all over that. But I don't think he would appreciate me digging up all his grass and whatnot. Plus, there are tons of rabbits living by my house.

The other day I was talking to a friend about the garden plots and she thought it was a great idea. So we're going to plant a garden (for realsies this time). Even if she decides to back out or whatever, I think I will still go for it. Because it may be half way across town. It may use more gas to get from my apartment to the garden than it does to get from my apartment to the grocery store. But there's something fulfilling about growing one's own food.

My family had a garden almost every year as I was growing up. I've been out of my parents' house for almost four years now, but when I go to visit in the summer, the first thing I look for when I get there is to see how the garden looks (and if there are any zucchini ready to pick!). It is one of the things I miss most about living at my parents' home. Planting, harvesting, enjoying the vegetables. One of the reasons I look forward to owning my own home (and land) someday is that I'll be able to have a garden. (Well, several gardens: vegetable, herb, flower, etc.)

As I sit here, pondering gardens... I wonder about my predilection for wooded areas. Maybe it comes not from the intrinsic naturalness of the place, but instead because I am surrounded by the cycle of plant life-seedlings bursting forth, growing and thriving plants, and those that are returning to the earth to provide nourishment to the next generation. Odd, that that should just now occur to me. Do plants have spirits? Can an oak tree spirit be a guide? Witches (and non-witches) are guided by wolves and panthers and turtles and mice and dragons all the time. Can the spirits of plants help guide us through life as well?

Thoughts to ponder on this cold winter's night (one of the last, supposed to be 57 next week!).

Heaven on Earth

This story was passed on to me from my mom, who was told by her mom.

My ex-uncle Terry has remarried, but is still really close with my grandma. His new wife has a couple of children. One of her boys was in the same class as a girl who recently died in a house fire. When the teachers were telling the class what happened, they said that she wouldn't be coming to class any more because she went to live in a house in heaven. After this, as my ex-uncle and his step-son were driving out to my grandma's house, I guess the little boy asked which house was the little girl living in. For him, that is heaven, with the trees and the flowers and the space to run.

I would like to meet this little boy who thinks where I grew up is heaven. Because when I was his age, I probably thought the same thing. I never wanted to leave. My mom still makes fun of my 6-year-old self, when I was convinced I wanted to live in my parents' house forever. Even now, I love going back to my parents' house, if only to see the land, however much it's been mangled. (My dad's convinced he needs an enormous corn field and has taken out a large part of the woods. Of course, the corn field never happened, and I can't convince him to plant native grasses/flowers and turn it into a mini-prairie. Not to mention the logging. Ugh.) That place, that land, is as much a part of me as my foot or arm. It was the home I grew up in, the home that shaped me, not the house. I hope that when I start my teaching career, that I'll be able to move back. Not to my parents' home (because that would be awkward), but to the Ozarks. I miss the hills and the trees and the rivers that run clean and clear. Ah, and now I'm homesick. Great!

Oh, yes, shame on those teachers for assuming the religion of their students.

Mushrooms

I had to go to my parents' yesterday to get my car fixed. And while I was there, my dad was basically rubbing it in my face that next weekend it would be in the 70's, perfect morel mushroom weather. And then he points out that I'm in prime mushroom-hunting territory. Of course, this is the man who only ever hunts mushrooms alone, just in case the person who goes with him spills the beans about where mushrooms grow. Honestly!

So maybe if it ever warms up here in the arctic north, I will go look about for some mushrooms, though I doubt that I'll have any luck. Which is depressing, because just looking at that picture at the top of the post makes my mouth start watering. Nom nom nom.

Church on Sunday

It is Sunday morning and I'm debating whether I should go to church or not. As much as I enjoy the church I go to (it's a Methodist church), I don't really know anyone there. I started going to this church back in April with my boyfriend, and I've made a few friends. But I still don't know them very well, and I feel that they're my boyfriend's friends more than mine... Rather like even though they like me, they are just putting up with me.

Plus the church is in another town, half an hour away. If it was in my town, I would probably be there in a heart beat... But spending an hour in the car for an hour-long service and some hellos is not my idea of fun.

Plus, I don't see the need of a church service to worship/learn about God. Church, for me, is more about the community than God. But what good is a community if it is thirty minutes away? I just wish my boyfriend didn't sound so offended when I talk about finding a church here in town.

Today is a going to be another gorgeous day, I think. (It's gotten up to 74/75 the last two days!!! In NOVEMBER!) I think that perhaps Camden and I will go out to the lake this morning and worship the way we're used to: appreciating and connecting with Nature. At least I won't have to sit there for an hour, worried every second of it that Cam is going to start making noise or running around or whatever he does to be disruptive. lol