There's been a great deal of music going on. Practicing, rehearsals, late night lessons, competitions...
A trip to the petshop after a doctor's appointment. I offered Sophie a treat and this is what she chose (the trip, not the kitten).
For my part, I looked everywhere for a tiny talking turtle but it was these two who spoke volumes without uttering a word.
This is a little game I like to call chase.
Was I being chased? Yes.
By the darkness.
You should have seen me go, dear reader. No stopping to follow butterflies this time around. No checking for tadpoles. No contemplative moods. I ran as if the raw, bleak fingers of night were reaching for my neck--reaching, scratching, not quite able to grab hold. I ran ahead of the shadows lapping at my heels with cold, sandpaper tongues. I flew over rocks, brambles, and thorns. I stumbled and fell. I lost my already tenuous grasp on reality, letting terror come for me like a pack of wolves. I heard a sound from deep within rise up like a child's cry and still I ran on.
Mind you, I did stop briefly to take this picture.
This one, too.
But after that I ran with the speed and desperation of a wild-eyed rabbit.
This game is called scullery maid.
It's fun to play when you are having lots of friends over for dinner.
Never underestimate the power of scullery maid to transform an otherwise mundane task into a deliciously tragic one of epic proportion.
I made this scullery maid set the table. The only problem is she likes setting the table. She simply adores it.
Which completely ruins the game of scullery maid!
Oh well. There are plenty of instances wherein she plays a perfect game of scullery maid. A breathtakingly perfect game.
Like when it's time to clean her room. Or clean her room.
But enough about us, dear reader. What have you been up to lately?