On a Friday: The yellow butterfly came by, again, at 13.30, again. Sharp little fellow set on a mysterious timer, which is just one reason why we should protect such critters. Killing them is akin to smashing a nice watch with a big fat hammer… You’d agree perhaps?
I saved a bee from drowning. We made a small recovery station out of three Campanula purple cups and he ate pollen from every one of them. We spent a good ten minutes watching him eat and clean his head and antennae. Truly fascinating.
We dug for new potatoes today. We have purple ones. They are still small and not even close to forming a side dish. But so what. Colors are tempting around here. Green, red, orange and purple. Tasty, all of them.
We painted, again, for no other purpose than well, painting. It’s like a big warm blanket to snuggle in with your children. Transforming to say the least. Addicting.
We played a silly ball game with no rules, floppy arms that never caught the ball except by mistake, we laughed our hearts out and called it a night. No photos were taken with a regular camera. Plenty of soul shots.
Decided to add yard-growing Tragopogons to meals. Why not? Living off the very land we’re stepping on, literally. They say the roots are edible. The name itself is edible enough, it has a crunch to it. Try saying it out loud. See? It shall be called yard cultivar. I know I am abusing the very term, but allow me for now.
Tomorrow we will resume and set an even higher stake for impractical, lovely and amazing things to do with our time.