"In words, like weeds, I'll wrap me o'er,
Like coarsest clothes against the cold"

—Tennyson

Thursday, June 17, 2010

In the early evening on Tuesday we sat on the lawn and waited for Seth to walk home from the bus. Charlotte picked some lavender and accidentally sat on the black-eyed susans, which I can never get established. Isaiah, swinging from the trees overhead, asked, "Did she think they were little yellow seats?"

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