Flower Power

We started the week by reading one of my favorite books for kids. It's a cute story, perfect for reading aloud, about a mouse named Chrysanthemum who loves her name ("Chrysanthemum thought her name was absolutely perfect.") , hates her name ("'If I had a name like yours, I'd change it', said Victoria."), then loves it again ("Chrysanthemum did not think her name was perfect. She knew it."). Hailey and Makayla loved the book, too.

Next we made yarn chrysanthemums. I remember Mom teaching me to make these when we still lived in West Mountain.

We turned them into bracelets.

We counted the letters in everybody's name (Chrysanthemum, Hailey, Makayla, and Grandma) and graphed our findings. I totally borrowed this idea off of the internet. (How did we raise children without benefit of the internet??) I wish I had a better picture of the project--Hailey really got into it and was fascinated by the idea of graphing.

Today we continued our flower theme by going in search of chrysanthemums to enjoy. Of course, it isn't chrysanthemum season, so we settle for a visit to Dan Walt Gardens. This is actually a private residence on about 2 or 3 acres that has beautifully landscaped grounds. They let people wander around for a very small fee.

They are famous for their iris, but have many other flowers and things to look at. I suggested to the girls that we find our favorite things and take a picture.

Before long, they wanted to be the one taking pictures of what they loved, so I handed over my aim-and-shoot camera and let them go wild. It took a little practice to keep fingers out of shots.

Picture by Hailey

Picture by Makayla.

 I realized when I got home that their pictures were actually really good- they were taking them at their eye level and that was exactly the right vantage point.

Picture by Hailey. 

The garden has various frogs sprinkled around, and the girls were thrilled to spot each one.

Picture by Hailey

Picture by Makayla.

Picture by Makayla.

 Picture by Hailey.

Picture by Makayla.

Picture by Makayla.

Picture by Hailey

Picture by Makayla.

This is a real, growing plant

 or maybe it's a wig

or perhaps a hat?

The hit of the visit was the chicken coop. I know that because there were 63 pictures taken by Hailey and Makayla of the chickens.

These baby chicks hatched today.

These guys could use a haircut.

Mr. Walt himself wandered by and gave the girls a handful of worms to feed to the chickens. 

Aren't they appetizing?

Makayla, looking for an especially deserving chicken for her last 2 worms.

Free souvenirs! I'm sure it's clean and sterile, right?

Picture by Hailey

 

 Picture by Makayla

 Picture by Makayla

Makayla was excited to recognize white bleeding hearts. I've been trying to teach the girls the names of all the flowers in my own garden. I only have pink bleeding hearts.

 Hailey, self-portrait

Picture by Hailey

Picture by Makayla

Picture by Hailey

 Picture by Makayla

Picture by Hailey

Picture by Makayla

Way to obey the sign, Hailey!

After several hours spent wandering in the hot sun, we made a quick stop on the way home. 

Makayla wanted me to take a picture of this handy thing she thinks her mom would like to have at their table. This, by the way, is DQ's idea of a kid sized ice cream cone.

Don't worry Amy, in addition to a dose of calcium,  I made sure they had their vegetables--onions for Makayla, potatoes for Hailey.

You've Gotta Have A Good Story

When I was a child, I loved to hear my Grandma Kenison tell stories. She told us stories about herself and her pioneer ancestors; Grandma was a great storyteller. One of my favorite stories was about a scar on her forehead. As I remember the story, as a young girl, Grandma had fallen off the roof of a shed, a place her mother had instructed her to stay off of, and cut her head open when she hit the ground. Her mother put sugar on it and told her not to look at it in the mirror. Grandma reports that she did, and promptly fainted. I loved to hear that story over and over again, imagining my ancient grandma as a young, slightly rebellious young girl, forever scarred by her disobedience. 

It was a great story. Each time a received a cut as a child, I secretly hoped it would scar so I'd have a great story to tell my posterity.

Finally, my wish has come true:I'm working on a bona fide head wound scar. Sadly, I just don't have a great story to go along with my healing forehead. It just isn't as exciting to say "I slipped on the ice" as it was to say "I disobeyed my mother and fell off a building".  Hailey and Makayla have examined my wound with horror, asking again and again why I didn't cry, and offering to hold my hand as I cross the ice from now on. That makes me feel like I'm 90.

My stitches have been removed, my bruised face is fading to a sickly yellow, mostly disguised with make-up, the swelling in my eye is almost gone, and other than some dizziness when I look down for too long, I'm healing. But I'm healing without a good story. 

Did I mention I was running from a grizzly bear when I slipped on the ice, which I then fought off with my bare fists? I do have that teensy scrape and bruise on my wrist from that desperate fight for my life. 

Yup. That's my new and improved story, and I'm sticking to it!

CELEBRATING OUR EMPTY-NESTHOOD-DAY ONE

Back a few years ago, Stan and I went to San Fransisco on our honeymoon.

Now that we're back to just Stan and I, we thought it would be fun to spend a few pre-Christmas days there.

Flower child Stan with the flower children

We have not been back to San Fransisco in nearly 35 years.

We haven't changed much--I wonder if San Fransisco has?


We left Billings on Friday and came back on Tuesday.

It seems  more than a little bizarre for us Montanans to hear Christmas music playing while enjoying the local flowers.

Stan requested a room with a view of the harbor. That's exactly what we were given.

They just forgot to mention there was a building in between us and the view.

 We found this vagabond in the SLC airport and took her with us out of the goodness of our heart.

Yep, we're still working on getting this empty nest stuff right.

Actually, this was a trip we had plan to take last spring, before Stan changed jobs and the duplex came calling. It was always intended to be all about Megan. Well, a little about Megan.

We visited the same Wax Museum Stan and I visited thirty+ years ago. Whistler's mom is still there.

 Megan and Stan with their entourage.

You've got to love San Fransisco. There's an ice cream parlor or gelato stand every few yards. We may have tried a few of them.  Ok, a lot of them.

Mom Elf and Megan Elf  at the tree near the pier. We shivered the whole time we were in San Fransisco. Although it was 20 degrees warmer than Billings, the humility made it feel  20 degrees colder.

View of the sunny, cold harbor.

There were plenty of unusual individuals looking for money in a variety of ways. Most of them didn't even pretend it was for anything but beer and drugs.

You could get a spray-painted picture of the harbor for the cost of a slightly used car,

while trying to avoid eye contact with robots willing to chase you down with their tip cup.

It's amazing what some people will give you for all the money in your pocket.

No journey to San Fran is complete without a ride on the cable cars. We thought we'd take the cars to Chinatown. We purchased our tickets and waited in line for an hour before we finally got on board---------just as the line experienced a power outage. We were told to leave, and no, they don't give refunds. I don't think that "no refunds" thing would fly in Montana.

The worst part was that we had been forced to listen to this street singer for an hour while in line---indubitably the most off-key, word-forgetting, horrible joke-telling mess we heard while in town. And here we thought the Geneva Convention had banned human torture.....

Next we got on the bus to Chinatown, only to be kicked off a few blocks later when Occupied people blocked the bus path several blocks away--at least that was the story. We never actually saw any of them. Again, no refund. I'm beginning to understand how SF funds the transportation system.

At this point we conceded walking was going to be faster than SF trains, planes, or automobiles and headed out on foot.

Eventually we got to Chinatown, hungry, cold, poorer, but there! We looked everywhere for an interesting restaurant, but couldn't find one. We ended up in a dive with food of questionable age. I'm pretty sure that beef dish they were feeding us was dog.

We explored the shops of the area, then headed home.

Immediately, we spotted the interesting diner we WISH we had eaten at.

Day 1 was definitely NOT our best day, but it got better!