It’s gorgeous here, so I took Vivian out for a walk at lunch. She spotted a patch of dandelions, ran over to them, and plonked herself down. She was just a picture, in her little butter-yellow sweater and yellow ribbons in her hair.
The dandelions were a hit. She put her nose in them, sniffed them, patted them, shouted “Fow-wa! Fow-wa!” She yanked up a big fistful, stuffed them in the front pocket of her overalls. We walked up to the coffee shop, where she spotted James and threw the smushed and wilted dandelions into his bag.
My garden is doomed. But I don’t care.
