Spring Festivals

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Last weekend, we took the kids to the Fort Worth/Main Street Arts Festival with my brother-in-law.

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And yesterday we went to the school Spring Festival at a nearby amusement park . . .

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Here’s what all I saw.

Love,
Twyla

Music: Send Me On My Way, Rusted Root

What’s Up There?

Yesterday, we went to our neighborhood park to play for a little while before dinner. It was a beautiful evening. The air was full of springtime . . . and interesting sounds.

“Mommy, it sounds like there’s a woodpecker up there. Is that a woodpecker sound?”

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Mommy didn’t know.

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Love,
Twyla

My Grandmothers’ Irises

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In the front garden of our home, I have irises from both of my grandmothers.

My maternal grandmother, Naomi (“Mimi”) was an extremely strong woman and wife to a farmer/rancher. She was lovely and smart and generous and fiercely protective of her family.

My paternal grandmother Christine (“Tine”) was a nurse and a gardener. She was pretty and sweet and nurturing. She also had a great sense of humor and a contagious laugh.

When Mimi passed away, my mother dug up her iris bulbs, planted some in her own garden, and gave the rest to Tine, who then added the irises to her already beautiful garden full of roses of every color and type imaginable. A few years later, when Tine died, my mother dug up most of those bulbs, before she and my father sold the house, and gave them to me for my first house with my husband. When I moved from that house to our current house, a few years ago, I dug up most of the bulbs and planted them in our new front yard.

With all that digging and moving, they still take root and multiply every time they must settle into a new home. And they bloom majestically each spring. These iris blooms are a perennial reminder of my beautiful grandmothers, both gone now for over a decade. And although my own children never met these women, who were so special to me, in the irises I feel I have a piece of them here in my home and my heart that I can share and pass on.

The kids do so enjoy flowers and bright colors and hearing me tell about their great grandmothers.

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Love,
Twyla

Spring Begins

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The kids had spring break last week. We went on a 3-day trip at the tail-end of the break, but earlier in the week, we spent one gorgeous afternoon at our neighborhood park.

I’m amazed at how kids can create these beautiful hours of fun for themselves with sticks to dig in the dirt, pebbles to kick, and dandelions to hunt and pull. Swings and slides help too. Oh, and bare feet! Bliss.

This is how spring starts.

Take a look . . .

Love,
Twyla

Music: “Brighter Than The Sun,” Colbie Caillat

Basketball Baby

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As our sweet daughter dribbles her way into spring soccer, I realize I never put a pretty lid or a bow on her basketball season, which ended last month.

The girl does love a good team sport.

Anyway, we all watched (parents, grandparents, uncle, big brother) while baby girl lived it up on the court!!!

Here’s a recap . . .

Love,
Twyla

Music: “Say Hey (I Love You),” Michael Franti & Spearhead

Our Son, The Carnivore

Ever since he’s been able to eat solid food, he’s been crazy about meat. (Actually, it started pre-teeth with that yucky pureed stuff.) Not too long ago, we were at the dinner table, and he said, “Pass the chicken.” Someone said, “It’s not chicken, it’s pork.” And he said, “It doesn’t matter, just pass it!”

Pretty much everything goes for him when it comes to meat: bacon, sausage, ham, meatballs (oh, he loves meatballs), “Chicken Bones” (also known as drumsticks), chicken strips, steak of all kinds.

And fish . . .

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He loves all kinds of shellfish, too. He really cleans up on the shellfish. (And he’s very careful not to kiss me afterward, since he knows I’m very allergic. Blown kisses only until teeth are brushed.)

But his favorite lately has been ribs, we call them “Rib Bones” . . .

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This was kind of a “Rib Bone” feeding frenzy. People in the restaurant were starting to stare. Embarrassing.

Our son does eat fruit too, but if someone told him he had to become a vegetarian, I believe he would just dry up and disintegrate.

His sister really likes vegetables and “lettuce salad.” Hallelujah.

Love,
Twyla