I don’t own this little treasure, Fletcher and the Falling Leaves, by Julia Rawlinson, but I will someday. This sweet book is one I discovered because I enjoy the illustrations of Tiphanie Beeke, who illustrated The Stars Will Still Shine, by Cynthia Rylant, a book I wrote about a while ago here.

Rawlinson has created a touching story of a little fox named Fletcher (Ferdie in the UK) who has a favorite tree. When the autumn weather comes and the tree begins to lose leaves, Fletcher becomes worried and tries to help his friend keep its leaves.

Each day, more and more leaves turn brown and flutter down to the ground.

This painting is marvelous, full of movement and emotion. This is rather what winter looks like to me, as we get no snow where we live. The autumn leaves hang onto the trees well into December until eventually the winds and the rains knock them off. Then everything becomes muted browns and soft greens and foggy grays.

Fletcher even tries to get the friendly birds to put the leaves back on the tree.

When all the leaves have fallen off, Fletcher feels that he has failed his friend.

The next morning he discovers his tree covered with silver icicles.  Winter has arrived and it’s breathtaking. “’You are more beautiful than ever,’ whispered Fletcher. ‘But are you all right?’
‘A tiny breeze shivered the branches, making a sound like laughter, and in the light of the rising sun, the sparkling branches nodded.’

Fletcher’s naive experience of the turning of the seasons is moving. He makes discoveries in nature with a childlike wonder that is ever so appealing. Paired with Beeke’s evocative illustrations, Rawlinson’s book is pure delight. I see that Rawlinson has written two other Fletcher stories as well: Fletcher and the Snowflake Christmas and Fletcher and the Springtime Blossoms. Both are also illustrated by Beeke.

My Winter Book Recommendations

The second light of Advent is the light of plants,
Plants that reach up to the sun and in the breezes dance.

Yes, this is how we began the second week of Advent last Sunday. We drove up to Apple Hill to a Christmas tree farm and roamed about for a while. It had been several years of not enough time or good weather to do this family tradition, so we felt it was time.

The boys enjoyed combing the hillside, and of course, had to go to the very tippy top of the mountain. Asher felt like he was in the woods. That is really an unbeatable feeling when you’re a kid, to feel way out away from civilization and wander among the trees. Most of these trees were pretty young, but it worked fine for little Asher.

When we finally found the perfect tree, Lucas did the cutting.

I snapped this photo because I just couldn’t get over how blue this silver fir tree was.

I conned them into posing for pictures, but only got the super silly kind. That’s OK, though. I think I love those the best. I love to see them having fun.

We stopped at Boa Vista Orchards for a lunch of burgers and some produce shopping. We bought the juiciest Asian pears ever. We picked up an apple blueberry pie to take home, too. Daddy felt that a pie baking in the oven would be the perfect compliment to tree decorating. I think he was right.

We played Christmas lounge music and covered the little tree with shiny ornaments, red ornaments, and stars. There are lots of ornaments left over this year because this Christmas tree is smaller than usual. I’m thinking up other ways to use them. (I admit I really adore ornaments.)

We think it’s lovely.

These photos are glorious shots taken my my dear friend Tate at Ian’s 40th birthday hike—at the beginning of last month. I’m grateful to Tate for taking them and letting me share them here.

Acorn led us on a local hike to Lake Natomas, created by the Nimbus Dam along the American River. He haunts this area a lot and knows where to find the Indian grinding rocks and sunbathing turtles.

It was a warm October day and both the kids and Suki the dog enjoyed brief splashes in the water.

Several friends were able to join us and it was a fun way to spend the day. It felt great to get outside and picnic together.

Sun hats for everyone!

Any day the kids get to wear their camelbaks is a good one in their view.

If I forgot to say it before, many thanks to those that came to celebrate Ian’s birthday with us. We had an epic weekend of fun and friends.

Our garden in October is a study in paradox. We have flowers, fruits, and seeds all at once.

We have a great mass of blooming cosmos that show no signs of slowing. There are plenty of buds ready to open into blooms.

We have this alien flower, which I didn’t plant.

I’m still harvesting tomatoes, though I confess the little orange Sungolds often don’t make it all the way into the house. They taste like candy.

Although it was a mild summer for us, this Japanese maple still shows signs of sunburn. At the same time, it has new leaves.

This areas is underneath some rose bushes. I grew these marigolds and nasturtiums from seeds, so that’s pretty awesome.

My zinnias are blooming like mad and also fading. The faded blossoms made a wonderful addition to our autumn equinox wreath last month. I don’t have much “fall color” to show, as most of our trees haven’t yet begun to change. A few sycamore leaves are falling. A single branch on our liquidambar (sweet gum) tree is covered in gold stars. The rest of the leaves area all still green.

The valiant calendula is going to seed. I need to get out there with a bag and gather some up for next year. There are billions of morning glory seeds available for collection, too.

All of the young hens are now laying. We have been getting between 6 and 9 eggs a day. We fear that Midnight (not pictured) is egg-bound. We have tried the remedies suggested by various Internet sources to no avail. We fear she may be on her way out, as a chicken cannot live in this condition for long, which is sad because she is Ian’s favorite hen.

We are still gathering basil and pinching off flowers. I need to harvest all of it for pesto before a frost comes, but it doesn’t seem like that will be anytime soon. Today’s high temperature is 84 degrees and tomorrow’s is expected to be 81.

Finally, here is our solitary pumpkin. We had such great luck growing orange and white pumpkins last year—nine in all. This year we have only one. I’ve explained to this vine repeatedly this summer and fall that one pumpkin just will not do. We have two children, after all! Alas, it didn’t listen to me.

My babies are home sick right now. You could say we overdid it this past weekend—which is totally true—but I know this is a virus they came by honestly. And so we are stuck at home together, while mama tries to meet editing deadlines and take care of ill boys, and said boys try to be still and let fevers and nausea pass with a minimum of mess. We have been doing a bit of birdwatching from our bay window. This morning, Asher and I sat and watched from our glider chair for 30 minutes or so. The birdbath has been popular!

A pair of robins visited us for a dip and a drink. Photographing fast-moving birds through a window I never clean doesn’t make for the greatest shots, especially with crazy cosmos flowers and buds blocking the view, but it is fun to see birds using this birdbath my family got me for my birthday last year. I love it and keep it filled with water at all times.

I don’t know what this gray darling is, but he or she was politely waiting a turn at the bath while the robins were there. Another gray bird with darker plumage was also waiting in the wings, so to speak.

Here’s that male robin again on the weeping cherry tree (that is trying hard to morph into a fruiting cherry tree).

Later on, I heard (before I saw) a woodpecker pecking at my purple robe locust tree, which seems to have mysteriously died this summer. I loved that tree. The woodpecker seems to indicate that it is indeed dead and not coming back. It grew fast to about 30 feet, bloomed like mad with huge purple flower clusters like grapes for about four years, and then gave up the ghost. Hopefully the woodpecker was finding a meal at least.

We have hummingbirds that visit our yard, too. They love all of my flowers, especially my cannas, salvias, and morning glories. This morning I watched one do its aerial dance, flying way up high and diving down into the yard. That seems to be a territorial thing. Hummingbirds rarely rest, but if I watch closely I sometimes spot lone individuals on the power lines. On Ian’s birthday a couple of days ago, a hummingbird flew right in front of him and hovered there at eye level for a few moments, just looking at him, before flying away. It seemed to him to say, “Happy birthday!” (Once, he gratefully held a stunned hummingbird in his hands after it had bonked into a window. It shook off the crash and quickly flew away. Another time, Ian was spraying the garden with the hose and a hummingbird came and bathed in the spray for a while, hovering in place to get clean. He kept stock-still with the steady spray until the bird was finished bathing. These experiences have made hummingbirds special to him.)

I met this handsome fellow last month in San Franciso in the Yerba Buena Gardens. So, he’s not an October bird sighting, but I couldn’t resist including him. It’s rare and thrilling to get this close.

Birds are part of the Little Acorn Learning October Enrichment Guide curriculum in the first week of October, which is what inspired me to look out the window and watch that birdbath. You can see the full contents and purchase the e-book here. Along with many other talented artisans and educators, I have contributed several craft project tutorials to it, including a woodworking project that Ian helped a bunch on. Here are a few craft photos from this month that didn’t make the cut for the ebook.

Maybe these will whet your whistle? You can find tutorials for these projects and much, much more at http://littleacornlearning.com/octoberenrichment.html. If you care for small and school-age children, you might really love these Enrichment Guides!

I hope you are able to spot some lovely October birds.

Dragon and Archangel Michael from 2009

It’s Michaelmas time again, one of my favorite times of year. Over the years, as I’ve engaged in our Waldorf school’s Michaelmas Festival, I’ve come to see Michaelmas as a truly enlivening and uplifting event that reaffirms my faith in humanity’s goodness. Michaelmas happens each year at a time when I find myself noticing nature turning toward dryness and decay. I notice all the upheaval in the world, both personal and global. It’s not that such things don’t happen at other times of the year, but something about this season makes them more poignant for me. As the nights grow longer and the year begins to die, my own dragons surface and start making noise that cannot be ignored. And so, I pay them some attention.

We all have faced some dragons recently! Ian faced the Tough Mudder and emerged victorious, having worked so hard to prepare both physically and mentally. Asher has faced down his own fears about being in a new school. Lucas is wrestling with new expectations on him now that he is older, and finding that sometimes he wants to quit piano and sometimes he doesn’t—for playing requires discipline and fortitude and stick-to-itiveness. My own issues revolve around some beloved family members, and their ill health is weighing on my mind. (Oh, and fear of failure. And fear of success. Money woes. All those old standbys are still present, too.)

Our Michaelmas nature table display, with handmade figures

For me, the Michaelmas festival reminds us that we all have a part of us that lurks in the murk, with our dragons—fears, angers, resentments, jealousies, laziness, etc.—as bitter (and sometimes comfortable) companions. Our societal dragons are fear, hate, bigotry, greed, and isolationism. And yet despite our foibles and in the middle of our challenges, we keep striving, working for the good. We shine our lights into our days and nights and work to make the world brighter in small ways and in big.

With Michaelmas, we have our metaphor of plucking up our courage and going out on the field to meet our dragons head-on. Though we are frightened, we call them by name and take a good hard look at them in the sunlight. And in doing so, we shrink them and corral them, tame them or banish them, or simply bring them under our better control. When we face reality with honesty and bravery, we are imbued with light and can use this strength daily in our interactions will all people.

But let me be clear, dragons are mighty teachers, too. Our dark sides can be a source of inspiration, power, and mystery. The fertile soil of our inner darkness must be balanced and harnessed by the light in us, that we may live healthy, happy lives and do soulful work.

Asher is experiencing in Kindergarten the story of a simple boy, George, who acts out of bravery and righteousness to help others and in doing so overcomes fear and darkness. He retold the story to me yesterday with great gusto. The older Kindergarten children are making their wooden swords of righteousness. They are dyeing silken capes with golden light. They are preparing themselves to be bold and good in the world.

Lucas’s 2010 modeling clay scene of Archangel Michael battling the dragon within a ring of fire

Lucas’s class, the fourth grade, are making shields. In the Michaelmas festival this Friday, they will protect the villagers when the dragon arrives. Their great courage will shield the innocent from harm.

So, if you’re curious about this festival, here are some other places you can look. I hope that it might inspire you as it has inspired me.

My post about Honoring Our Dragons.

A Michaelmas craft the boys and I enjoyed last year.

Last year’s 2010 School Michaelmas Festival. And here’s 2009’s festival post.

Last year’s family Michaelmas celebration at home. How might you make a dragon dinner?

Third graders making dragon breads at Sacramento Waldorf School

Here are some other wonderful Michaelmas links for you to explore:

Read this one. I promise you won’t be disappointed: Barbara Klocek’s article about Michaelmas in the Kindergarten. (Mrs. Klocek was one of Lucas’s Kindergarten teachers.)

Lots of info about Saint Michael and Michaelmas here.

Carrie’s 2009 post about Michaelmas on the Parenting Passageway is here.

A great post about building a dragon with a sixth grade Waldorf class is found on The Waldorf Way blog.

A new article about Michaelmas “The Festival of Human Becoming” by Danielle Epifani on The Wonder of Childhood online magazine.

Mamaroots has a tutorial for making stick dragons

The meaning of the Michaelmas festival by Rudolf Steiner is here.

Rocking Granola has a great list of more resources here.

Last year, as part of our family’s Autumn Equinox celebration, the boys and I made an autumn wreath from clippings from our yard. It was so pretty and lasted better and longer than I had really hoped, so I thought this year I’d share a tutorial, in case you’d like to make one for your home.

Above is our wreath from today. I wish I could say my kids wanted to help this year, but they didn’t. Also, you might wonder why my Autumn wreath doesn’t have many autumn leaves in it. Here in Northern California the leaves haven’t yet begun to turn pretty colors. Today it was almost 100 degrees F. I found plenty of other bits with splashes of  color to use instead of autumn leaves.

Materials

* wreath base made of twigs or vines

* floral picks (short wooden stems with a wire fastened on one end)

* fresh and dried yard clippings (some examples: Japanese maple, pittosporum, nandina, rose hips, seed pods, dried or drying hydrangea, crepe myrtle, myrtle, dusty miller, mint, rosemary, autumn leaves, mallow, wheat ears, assorted shrubs, etc.)

Tutorial

A long time ago, I used to be a floral designer, but I promise you don’t have to have any floral design experience to do this project. Also, I should say that this is a seasonal wreath that will look nice for several weeks. It will not last forever, as the plant materials will wither and dry out. However, many will retain their shapes and colors. Since we won’t be storing this wreath for use again next year, we are free to construct it fairly loosely.

For my wreath base, I used a wisteria vine that I twisted into a wreath earlier this summer when Ian and I were trimming in the yard. Wisteria is leafy and pretty and nicely flexible when you first cut it and it’s fresh. We had so very much of it that I made several wreaths, which subsequently dried up completely. The first thing I did for my autumn wreath project was to pick off a bunch of dried wisteria leaves. You can see how the original green color of the wisteria vines has faded in the next picture.

Choose a single direction in which to add bits of plants to your wreath base. Trust me: You’ll be happier with the finished wreath if it has a directional flow. Mine goes clockwise. It is the direction of the path of the sun in the Northern Hemisphere, and since for me this wreath is a symbol of the changing of the seasons, I’m quite happy with clockwise.

All you have to do is stuff the stem end of your garden clippings into your wreath base, wedging it until if feels secure. That’s it. It’s not complicated at all, but you have to keep doing it until your wreath base is covered up with foliage and other items. I suggest that you choose sturdy kinds of plants to cover the base and provide a foundation for the colorful and more interesting parts to sit on. For my wreath, this was pittosporum. It stays intact as it dries.

Now add lots of variety to your wreath, using the same technique of inserting the stems into the twisted wreath base. Try to find foliage in a variety of greens, reds, and yellows and with a variety of leaf shapes. Keep working in different places all around the circle, adding the same type of item in two to five different places on the wreath. This will help achieve a balanced look.

As the wreath fills out gradually, you can begin to add your showier items. Unusual shapes or colors, seed pods, flowers, or dried flowers all make wonderful accents. If you have plant items lacking a long enough stem, you can use a floral pick and wrap the wire around the item, securing it to the floral pick. Then insert the pick into the wreath base.

You might wish to choose a particular focal point on the wreath. Often this is either the bottom center or the top center of the wreath. Place some of your favorite plant items there.

I chose plenty of imperfect items for my wreath, such as leaves with blemishes, flowers that were long past their prime, and fruits (such as rose hips and lantana fruits) that would normally be trimmed and discarded. I wanted to capture this moment in time, this beautiful juncture between the seasons that is the equinox. My garden is a study in paradox right now, with some plants blooming like gangbusters and some going to seed and drying out. To me this is quintessence of the autumn equinox, and reflects the seasons as I know them.

You can make an amazing autumn wreath without taking too much of any one type of plant, too. For example, I clipped only three hydrangea flowers, four old zinnias, and only a couple of totally dried, brown gardenias. If you use just a little bit of lots of different plants, you won’t need to denude any one.

Here’s my finished wreath hanging above our nature table. It will change over the next several weeks as autumn wears on, which seems just right to me.

How do you honor the changing of the seasons in your home?

My Photinia Rainbow photo is featured today on Maureen Cracknell Handmade. Please pop on over to Maureen’s site and see her exquisite handwork, sewing, and quilting. I’m excited to make her acquaintance and honored that she finds my photo inspiring! I’ll be watching her creative endeavors going forward.

Maureen’s blog is Maureen Cracknell Handmade and can be found at http://maureencracknellhandmade.blogspot.com/.

That gorgeous fabric bundle is for sale by PinkCastleFabrics here: The fabric bundle is for sale here: http://www.etsy.com/listing/79584457/sale-high-traffic-red-yellow-and-green-9

Our Sunday began at 4:45 a.m., earlier than we ever rise. We dressed, brushed our teeth, threw our things into the car, and then carefully transferred sleeping boys into the vehicle. We drove almost two hours up highway 80, heading toward Squaw Valley, California, to the Nor Cal Tough Mudder. Seriously, check out the Tough Mudder website here. You won’t be sorry you did.

Ian had been training hard for this event since May, when he decided to join our friends NoNo and Mars in this obstacle course extraordinaire, this crazy endurance “race” to benefit the Wounded Warrior Project, which helps recently returned wounded veterans. Yes, that means our dearest Daddy and darling friends paid for the privilege to test their meddle against 24 seriously gnarly obstacles designed to challenge both body and mind.

Our arrival at Squaw valley was a joyful, exciting time. Hundreds of participants and spectators milled about reasonably, filling out death waivers and promising not to sue. All Mudders recieved registration packets and race numbers, which were written on their foreheads and bodies for easy identification. One wonders whether they expect participants heads to separate from bodies—well, better safe than sorry.

This is team Burndoggle. As you can see, spirits were high before the start. Butterflies? Oh yeah! This is some crazy stuff, folks. We in the support crew, our dear friend Dakini and me and our two children, were there to take photos and give high fives and wishes of good luck. Honestly, I’m overjoyed that I got to be present for this. What a day! What a day!

An amazing, loving, superb couple, our lovely NoNo and Mars! Lets just say they’ve been training for the Tough Mudder for something like 11 years. Yes, they take their fitness seriously.

Daddy was pumped up and jittery, and took some time before the 8:40 start to love up the boys and play with them. Oh yeah! Asher kept looking at Ian like he was more than a little insane. Frankly, I don’t blame him.

The Tough Mudder start line was at the base of a huge mountain. It seemed to say, “Get use to it, Mudders, because mountains are going to be your life for the next several hours!” Some Mudders wore funny costumes. I saw ‘fro wigs and matching tights and tutus and teams of friends all in pink scrubs. The National Anthem played before the 8:40 wave was allowed to start. There was crazy cheering and Asher cried because I was making too much noise. A lot of this day was well outside his comfort zone.

We Burndoggle team supporters knew we wouldn’t be able to witness MOST of the Tough Mudder obstacles. (Here is the course map.) But we were there to pass the day, have a great time, and hope for the opportunity to see our friends kicking ass, so we bought tickets for the cable car to take us up to 8,200 feet above sea level. (Asher didn’t much like this part either, but he bravely did as he was told and stuck very close to me. Especially when it started rocking after passing a pylon. Even my stomach did flip-flops while on this thing.)

Right after we exited this cable car “sky bus” thingy, we emerged at the top of a gorgeous mountain with a vista that stretched all the way to Lake Tahoe in the distance. But that’s not what caught our eye right away. First, we were captivated by the nearby obstacle called Everest—a quarter-pipe against which Mudders threw themselves in the hopes of  scaling it. A group of burly athletes lined the top to help other Mudders over the obstacle. Yes, Mudders, you see work in cooperation. This isn’t a race, per se. It’s more about teamwork and cooperation and facing your fears. These guys at the top were more than happy to haul others up and over the edge. But just jumping high enough to grab one of these body-building helpers’ hands was a huge feat. Most people I watched couldn’t do it. Some did. Mars did it, somehow, when I wasn’t looking. This may be my only regret of the day.

(None of these marvelous people are my people. That’s OK, though. They’re cool!)

What was truly thrilling was the fact that Mars, NoNo, and Ian were there when we arrived, waiting for their chance!  There was something of a traffic jam for the Mudders to get over this thing. I hadn’t really dared to hope that we might catch up with them at any point on the course. This was a dream come true. NoNo waited and watched others make their attempts, strategizing all the while, I think.

Ian weighed the risks carefully.

NoNo and Ian both climbed the 12-foot half-pipe to get over. Tough Mudder isn’t about doing every obstacle perfectly. It’s about making it through. This Everest was only obstacle 3, I think (after the Kiss of Mud and the Death March). We got kisses and then they were off again, running up an even higher mountain to who knows where? … something about crawling through snow, I later found out.

Dakini and the boys and I followed an alpine meadow trail a ways over to two nearby obstacles: the monkey bars and the rope climb. These were monkey bars on steroids, I tell you. About six lanes of Mudders monkeying uphill to a peak and then downhill to the end of the obstacle. Most fell into the muddy water below. Some made it all the way across. Many made it only part way. I really didn’t ever realize how many different monkey bar styles there were before this day!

This might be my favorite photos of the monkey bars because of the tights, of course, but it doesn’t convey the numbers of people crossing at once. Crazy. We waited here quite a while, hoping our friends would arrive after having passed through obstacles that we skipped by coming here. We’ll never really know if they went through this section of the course before we arrived here on foot with a 4-year-old, or after we finally gave up hoping to see them.

Right near here was the rope climb, which I later learned was something of a triumph for Ian. At this point the boys were holding up beautifully, especially since I kept feeding them.

The High Camp views were amazing. Truly spectacular. It’s the kind of place that makes you feel small and yet restores your faith in the world because of it.

Dakini took this great photo of us on top of the world among the mules ears. It was such a gorgeous day!

Squaw Valley hosted the Olympics in 1960. They have an Olympic Museum, which would be interesting to visit sometime, but we weren’t here for that.

Eventually, we rode the cable car back down the mountain and got the gear bags for our warriors. We ended up waiting under some shade at the cargo net obstacle for quite some time. This is a shot that Lucas took, which clearly shows Mudders coming down a (third?) mountain single file to get to the cargo net. We could see them way at the top as tiny specks, and we must have scanned the outlines of hundreds of descending people, looking for our three darlings, all the while shuffling our feet and hoping.

The waiting was hard. Anxious for me. But mostly boring for the boys. I jollied them along as best I could with PBJ sandwiches and pears. Lucas made a little birdie out of a pine cone and bits of wood chips. Asher made a big pile of rocks and then carefully formed the letter A with little sticks. “Mama, look what I made! Is that a A?”

After what felt like a long, nail-biting time, Ian emerged on the top of this obstacle. We had spotted our friends snaking down the mountain, and we were cheering like mad when he reached the top and looked right at us. Moments later, NoNo and Mars were there, too. They were close to the end of this ordeal and spirits were very high!

Daddy ran to us. We cheered and applauded. We got hugs and kisses. I snapped many photos of these gorgeous, dusty Mudders. (A gazillion more are on my Flickr stream.)

Don’t they look wonderful? But alas, even though they had scaled the Berlin Walls, carried logs, swam under walls, jumped off high planks, and braved the Chernobyl Jacuzzi already, they weren’t done yet. Two or three other obstacles still remained ….

Like this balance-beam obstacle called Twinkle Toes. Again, there were many lanes that Mudders could cross. Trouble was, the boards kept wobbling and many people fell into icy-cold water. I’m told the day was punctuated by frequent encounters with icy-cold water.

They approached the last obstacle, Electroshock Therapy—a field of electrically charged wires ready to zap Mudders with 10,000 volts as they pass—at a walk. This is one that messes with your mind, I think.

And then they were done. Their reward? A free beer and some food, a T-shirt, and this nifty orange headband.

Ian was elated, but not quite in his right mind at the finish. Dizzy? Addled? Relieved? Definitely happy!

Team Burndoggle’s time was something like 5 hours and 20 to 40 minutes. I don’t know exactly. I was too excited and busy congratulating them and taking photos to check the time. Whatever. They did it! And then much celebration ensued. The grins were worth a million bucks. There was pizza and more beer.

And our Tough Mudders posed for pics in the most delightful ways.

And my little, impressionable boys got to see Daddy do something amazing and clearly worthwhile, something he worked hella hard for—which is why I dragged them two hours into the Sierras at the crack of dawn and then up and down mountaintops after all.

Congratulations, NoNo and Mars! You rock!

Congratulations, Ian, my love. You are heroic and mighty! I’m so proud of you.

Last week I picked a bouquet of late summer flowers from my garden. I have cosmos grown from seed that are now taller than me. My cannas are nearing the end of their bloom, and some are making seeds. These last surprisingly long in a vase. I clipped a “Mother of Pearl” rose from one of this year’s new rosebushes and my favorite, “Rio Samba” is in its third bloom of the summer.

Some mint filled out the bouquet with fragrant green and little flower spikes.

Mostly my bouquet featured some terrific coral zinnias, also grown from seed. There’s only one plant, but it’s huge and thriving. I love them!

Imagine our surprise when three days later we found this fellow on a zinnia! The flowers in the vase were beginning to tire and droop and dry. And this caterpillar was still alive and on them, munching away.

He explored and ate while we grabbed our “butterfly garden” from the garage, picked fresh zinnias and place them in a small vase of water, and enclosed them and the caterpillar in the mesh enclosure. We wondered what the caterpillar might like to eat and brought in various leaves for him.

Then, we lost him. That is, try as we might, we couldn’t see him anywhere in the enclosure. I worried that he hadn’t had appropriate food and had died and shriveled up invisibly.

Then, one day, we found him again! He looked a little darker in color.

Then, he disappeared once more. Uh oh!

Today, Daddy found a little brown chrysalis tucked into a fold at the bottom of the mesh and fabric enclosure. We are now eagerly waiting to see what will happen next. Will a butterfly emerge? We hope so!