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Tuesday, April 23, 2013


Henry amused himself tonight by picking handfuls of violets in our backyard.
I thought about reigning him in but then figured once the lawn gets mowed, they're gone anyway. As long as he stays away from the daffodils and tulips. 

He enthusiastically crawled around, snipping up the tiny bits and stuffing handfuls of the delicate purple flowers into his pockets (and mine). We later sprinkled them in their bathwater. Quite Romanesque, if I do say so myself.

Surprisingly delightful scent and even if Kat decided to taste one, they're edible. They didn't do their usual clamor for the bath toys and were  both fascinated with the floating flowers. When Kat stood up to get out, random violets stuck to her and she looked adorably cherubic.

Violets remind me of my childhood best friend, Kat and the little mossy patch of violets that we found while walking in the woods. She talked about how it would be a wonderful place to scatter your ashes, it was so peaceful and perfect. Little did I know her ashes would be scattered a few short years after that in a redwood forest in California.

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