Yesterday, Sydney and I ventured north to Woodburn to spend a couple hours at the Wooden Shoe Tulip Farm. For the second year in a row, we met Sarah and Clover there. Last year, the girls were barely walking and had trouble maneuvering through the sawdust. This year, they were chasing each other (or rather Sydney was chasing Clover) through the tulip aisles, across the sawdust, around the windmill, beside the tractor, and into the flower boxes...when they weren't stomping through the mud-luscious world. Clover was in good form finding every possible mud puddle, and in the end even finding an ankle-high lake to slosh through. It was most certainly (as E. E. Cummings wrote) a puddle-wonderful morning.
Sydney wasn't quite as adventurous having chosen a dress to wear for the occasion, although she did manage to sit in one mud puddle. I did at least make her wear her boots, and two sweaters, but I couldn't dissuade her from her new dress once she heard me mention "flowers," as in, "Today we're going to go see some flowers." She has quite a developed sense of what she wants to wear.
Since I had forgotten my camera at home, I had to rely on Sarah for pictures, which is quite a nice position to be in since she's such a good photographer. Almost seventy-photos later, we called it a day. On the drive home, Sydney talked and talked about her time with "Coco" and pretended to smell imaginary flowers. Sometimes I can hardly contain myself, she is so adorable.
There is something remarkable about spending a few moments in a huge tulip field, the wind whipping our hair around our faces, two little cousins holding hands, the sound of boots splashing, and tiny voices calling for "hats!" It is spring at its finest I'd say.
Sarah wrote a lovely post, complete with a poem about mud, with more pictures.
And while I wax poetic about springtime, breathing in the faint smell of tulip pollen, Jason is sneezing away from his allergies. This is earlier in the year than he usually gets them, and he is quite miserable about it. Sneezing, runny nose, scratchy eyes are the telltale signs that spring has arrived for him. Unfortunately, our insurance company doesn't give out his preferred allergy drug of choice (Allegra), so he's making do with some other med they prescribed him. The dosage is too low to really be helpful, and it might be that we'll just have to pay cash for the good stuff (he refuses to do the shots or the nasal sprays having read some sort of research on how you eventually become immune to them). After nine years, I have learned to be somewhat sympathetic, although when it comes to sleeping between his allergy-induced snoring and Sydney's cold-induced snoring, I seem to be the one who's getting the least amount of sleep.
In non-related and very late-breaking news, I thought I should offer a late congratulations to Nathanael who won my NCAA blogball tournament bracket. Some little birdie told him to pick George Mason to go deep (in the form of National Review's article on their law school). Well done, my former student. An Amazon gift certificate is your well-deserved prize. Thanks to the rest of you for playing! Join in the fun next year for another shot.
"Never forget that the subject is as important as your feeling; the mud puddle itself is as important as your pleasure in looking at it or splashing through it. Never let the mud puddle get lost in the poetry--because, in many ways, the mud puddle is the poetry." --Valerie Worth
Happy Birthday to my brother Tyler. Only one more year until we are the same age (because I don't think I'm aging past 30). I'm proud of you, little big brother. You're amazing, and talented, and super duper cool.