Free Range

Is there food in here?

I have a trunk where I keep the dress-up clothes.  Bonnie added a caterpillar costume this year. Lots of treasures when a person digs to the bottom there.  Michael found the box that is loaded with jewellery. Ihe box would confuse anyone, for it appears to have Christmas cookies in it.

“I want the cookies, gwama!”

“No food, but I will open the box and let you play with the treasures.”

 ...fun, but a drag for the beads  interfere with the
Thomas the Train Track game ...

Usually he and I are out in the dirt. Bonnie said that the only way to describe him is by calling him a free-range chicken.

 He circles the porch, turns on his bouncy house, turns it off, checks out the compost bins, digs a while in the sand pile, helps me weed the stairs that go down to the lake, comes back up to turn on the mirror ball under the deck and then he is gone to check out what his mom is doing with the saw in the garage. Glen taught him how to crawl through the 26 inch aluminum pipe that didn’t get used in the work with the culverts. I showed him how to put a pebble in the flue that takes the water down the hill. The water gushes down at that point and the pebbles crackle against the side all of the way down. I have an extra set of gardening gloves in my pocket because I have to give up mine to him if there is only one pair. I only saw him bolt for home one day. A sudden gust of wind came around the house. When I looked for him, I saw him flattened against the garage door, his arms flattened out and his little body shaking.

I like having a gardening companion.

Arta