The path around the pond changes its clothes in March. One week it is brown. The next week it is stitched with little yellow and violet faces.
We bring a notebook instead of a vase. The children sketch shapes. I write the names we know and leave question marks for the rest.
Not picking the flowers is a family rule, and it is a gentle one. The path keeps its bouquet. We keep the memory.
If you walk with us in the notes on this site, expect more noticing than naming. Wonder is the point.
