Wild flowers

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I love flowers. Not the ones with a scent so heavy it’ll make your head spin (I mean really, who wants a spinning head), but the unscented ones. The dainty ones with little delicate petals, or the ones that just would never make it in a bridal bouquet of some sort. Most would call them weeds, but I prefer to see them as the nonconformist variety. Wild flowers.

When I was little I used to pick them all the time, and made little bouquets to give to my mom. And buttercups? Remember those? Little yellow wild flowers that grew on a long stem amongst the clover. One time on a dare a neighbor girl told me the stem tasted like lemons and that I should try one. I dare you, she taunted. So I did, without even blinking. And yes, it was sour, and thank goodness I’m still alive.

Early on I always tried to teach my munchkin that beauty is always around us. The easiest way I could show her this was through our walks, while picking wild flowers along the way. She loves this activity, and I really do cherish it. I never claim to know their names, so we just call them by size or color. Just keepin’ it simple for my 5 year old and my 37 year old brain.

My sister bought this adorable and tiny flower press for my munchkin. As she gave it, my first thought was, Yay for ME!! I love my sister (and yes Sister, if you’re reading this I told your niece you bought it just for HER). So today we cracked it open and put it to good use. Hopefully we did it right. According to the instructions the flower should be ready in 3 weeks. Guess I’ll have to update you on that later. I hope I do my sister proud.

 

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