Author Archives: sbland

About sbland

Sue Bland (aka Poached Egg Woman) is a visual artist who lives on a farm in rural Saskatchewan. A chicken farm, to be exact, hence she eats a lot of poached eggs! Sue works primarily in paper collage and watercolours, and offers art PLAYshops to anyone interested in exploring their creative side and having fun.

How To Make Friends with a Wildflower

Photo Credit: Jo Anne Lauder

Jo Anne Lauder, one of the artists who took part in “Befriending Wildflowers – An Art Retreat” at the Qu’Appelle House of Prayer this July, took the stunning photo above, capturing the delicacy of a prairie wildflower bouquet. “Befriending Wildflowers” gave us a chance to slow down, to explore the hills and meadows around us, and to spend quiet happy time in each other’s company observing, sketching, and painting wildflowers. We painted under the green shade of trees on some very hot days, and were grateful for the cooling breeze. Grateful too, for the generous hospitality of Glenn, Chantelle, Kathy, Tim, and Simba, the cat. Their hospitality included delicious meals and surprise snacks, thoughtful reflections about wildflowers, and mowing the  steep and curving trails that lead up the hills (a Herculean act, in my opinion). If Simba detected any sense of a rush, he had a lovely way of asking for some affection, and slowing us down. We were also deeply grateful for the many gifts of the wildflowers, and the beautiful natural world surrounding us. Below are some photos of our time together, and if you continue all the way to the bottom, some preliminary thoughts on how to make friends with a wildflower.

She said she doesn’t climb hills and then SHE DID! (Wait to go, Deb!)

this beautiful view (still celebrating the climb!)

new friends

we also came “to just be”, to quietly sit

Moments of quiet absorption

 

a little watercolour play

Breathe while you paint (this flopped but fun experiment because how will you breathe if you are worried about getting paint on the garage door??)

Loosening our brush stroke by pasting a stivk to the end of our brush (still worried about paint on the doors!!)

early Saturday morning, beautiful mist…that is the chapel in the distance

Spreading Dogbane Foliage by Deb

Getting to know the flowers by sketching them first (Deb)

Bouquet by Deb

Purple Prairie Clover and Gaillardia by Jo Anne

Unfinished Woodland Foliage by Jo Anne

Wild Rose by Jo Anne

Wildflower Sampler (Purple Prairie Clover, Western Wild Bergamot, Harebell, Prairie Coneflower, Gaillardia, Alfalfa) by Jo Anne

Wild Rose by Teri (First ever attempt with watercolours)

Wildflowers in Tree by Marg

Alcohol Ink by Marg

Bible Journal by Marg

Wildflowers and Earth by Marg

“Nature yourself with kindness” by Marg

A partial art gallery on the logs

Spreading Dogbane and other foliage by Sue

More foliage by Sue

Back: Teri, Jo Anne, Marg Front: Deb, Sue


Some Preliminary Thoughts on Making Friends with Wildflowers

  • The old adage “Stop (or slow down) and smell the flowers” is a good one. Stopping is necessary. Smelling is great – some of us have the most beautiful scent, some no discernible scent, and some a memorable scent. You can smell us best when on your knees.
  • Once you have stopped, spend a little time with me. Really look at me. Touch me – gently, see how I feel. Notice if there are others like me around. What made you look at me? Sing me a song. Tell me what you appreciate about me. It takes a long time to get to know me well.
  • From someone who knows us well: be humble around us. We have been on Planet earth for much longer than you. We are your Elders, your teachers. (paraphrased from Robin Wall Kimmerer)
  • Don’t pick me with out asking. I will answer. Wrap my stem in a little water so I will stay alive a little longer. When you take me home, admire me, place me in a central spot, sketch or paint or photograph me. If that is not your thing, you could write me a love song.
  • Never pick me if I am the only one, or if there are very few of my kind.
  • Walk lightly. That way if you step on me I am more likely to bounce back.
  • Come and visit me often. At first you will notice me only when I am in full bloom, but in time you will learn to notice my emerging leaves, my bud, how I flower and how my middle turns to seeds. You will find me beautiful even as I am dying. Each stage of my life is wondrous.
  • Listen to me.
  • Look around and notice who my neighbours are, which butterflies, bees and flies like to pollinate me, if I am tasty to any wild creatures.
  • Sometimes leave me alone. Just like any friend, I need quiet at times.
  • I enjoy your small gifts of thanks, but the best gift of all is an appreciative heart. Or lovely water (especially in a dry year).
  • Other thoughts?

    Harebell Photo Credit: Chantelle Bonk, Qu’Appelle House of Prayer

Seeing Through a New Lense – Art in the City

From time to time, I have the great privilege of exploring Regina with a small group of youth, looking for art both inside and outside galleries. We call this “Art in the City” as most of us are from rural Saskatchewan. Often, I enjoy a research trip before hand, make a plan, and I create a little booklet so that we are interacting with the art we see throughout the day. Every time, I come home with the same bit of wisdom which is “Less is More”. What I learn over and over again, is that while it is good to introduce my young friends to things they may have never seen before, their own imaginations are even richer and they can make fun out of an open green field, an empty band stand, or anywhere at all. I am reminded ‘Hold whatever plan you have loosely, and leave lots of room for spontaneous adventures!”

Here is a quick rundown of our day:

Inspired by the wonderful Vic Cicanski show at the MacKenzie Art Gallery (don’t miss this!!), our theme was sculpture and we spent a long time with his fantastical sculptures. They made us hungry (all those fruits and vegetables!!) and so we went out to eat lunch with Joe Fafard’s bovine family. Then, we each chose a statue in the lobby, and imagined a name for the statue and a story, sharing them with each other afterwards. What is out the backdoor of the MacKenzie Art Gallery? More sculptures, yes…….but  even better than a sculpture garden, there was a huge green bowl of grass waiting for four girls to come along, kick off their shoes, and run and play games they made up under the blue sky for as long as possible. Although there were more things to see in the MacKenzie, we voted for ice cream instead. (There is a limit to how much beautiful art we can absorb at one time!) As we drove down 13th Avenue to the ice cream store, we yelled “HUBBA BUBBA” every time we saw art on a building, or a park bench or as a colourful sculpture! There were many “hubba bubbas!!” along this route. We tried to get “artistic” ice cream cones, colours that matched our fingernail polish or looked good together. After all this hard work, we went to the Royal Saskatchewan Museum, where we had a  quick nap, and met up with Rebecca Hay, Earth Science specialist, who introduced us to Scotty the T-Rex, but most especially to the wonders of Tyndall stone…we walked around the whole museum looking at the  stone frieze carved by Hubert Garnier in the 1950s. We stopped to look at our skewed reflections in a shiny truck – we were all short and fat. While looking at the stone frieze,  we found the illicit Wascana mermaid. She is  quite small , tucked in with the fishes, and not really very illicit at all. The mermaid suggested we swim so we headed to Wascana Pool, stopping in the bandstand to perform an impromptu play on the way. We had the best swim, and on the way back to the car, we ran and froze as statues of anything we imagined. The drive home was quiet.

What is your favourite piece?

Imagining a chair growing vegetables

Drawing the “carrot couch”

Some other favourite pieces

the great green bowl where we ran and played

Ice cream that matches

Ice cream that matches fingernails…exactly!!

Nap time…I obviously should have napped too because I took no photos of Rebecca and our wonderful tour of the outside of the museum and meeting of Scotty

 

As summer begins, these girls reminded me how you don’t need very much to have fun if you have an active imagination. They never go straight from a to b without making it into a game or a play or something to laugh about. What a joy to spend a day with 4 girls, each one knowing they are absolutely loved, each one expecting something wonderful around the next corner, each one delighting in being with their three friends. They have amazing parents, and being with this group reminded of this poem, which appears on Facebook from time to time.

Make the Ordinary Come Alive

Do not ask your children
to strive for extraordinary lives.
Such striving may seem admirable,
but it is a way of foolishness.
Help them instead to find the wonder
and the marvel of an ordinary life.
Show them the joy of tasting
tomatoes, apples, and pears.
Show them how to cry
when pets and people die.
Show them the infinite pleasure
in the touch of a hand.
And make the ordinary come alive for them.
The extraordinary will take care of itself.

By William Martin, The Parent’s Tao Te Ching: Ancient Advice for Modern Parents.

 

 

Bearberry

I return again and again to the same part of Pheasant Creek, in different seasons, at different times of day. I have learned where the wild bergamot flourishes, where the buffalo berries can be found, where the coyote digs her den, the location of the drumming  log of the ruffed grouse, or the tree that the pair of red tail hawks return to each year. While I know it as well as I know any place, I am constantly being surprised by new discoveries.

I see but I don’t see. Sometimes I amazed by what I have not noticed and what i have missed.

Take the bearberries, for example. I noticed them for a long time before I knew what they were called. I noticed them because they seemed out of place on the prairie hills with their deep green colour and the leathery feel and shiny look of their leaves. They seemed to belong more in a boreal forest.

At some point, I noticed the delicate pink bell shaped flowers that blossom in spring, or the red berries that come in the fall. In fall their leaves turn a deep red, and in early spring you will find patches of faded red bearberry leaves mixed with fresh green growth, as pictured below. Bearberry grows low to the ground as a trailing shrub, often close to stands of aspen or other trees. I usually find it on the coulee and valley hills, but it has a wide range across Canada.

Bearberry, early spring

Once I found out that this plant was called bearberry,  I learned that the leaves were an essential ingredient in kinnnickinick (blended smudging mixture used by many Indigenous peoples, with ingredients varying somewhat depending on locale).

Recently, when I was thinking I might have the beginnings of a bladder infection, I looked up herbs that can help with this. All ten plants listed can be found where I live. Top of the list and  and very plentiful was bearberry!!  I began by making tea with the leaves, but as the leaves are full of tannins, I have made cold water infusions instead (which do not release the tannins). I do this by tearing the leaves up and grinding them and letting them sit in water for 12 hours ( 1 teaspoon of leaves per cup of water). I then drain the water off and drink it through the day. It has a mild but very refreshing taste. This will only work if your urine is alkaline. Drinking a glass of water with a teaspoon of baking soda about an hour before drinking the bearberry water will alkalize your urine. A few cautions: This is not for pregnant women, and limit use to about two weeks.

Other medicinal benefits of bearberries can be found in The Boreal Herbal: Wild Food and Medicine Plants of the North by Beverly Gray (see below). It is a fantastic resource. You can also find bearberry in health food stores as Uva-Ursi, or in plant nurseries.

Bearberries are aptly named according to Beverly Gray. She writes, “In fall, bears will ingest massive amounts of bearberries, which has a numbing/paralyzing action on the intestine. Bears follow this meal  with Carex, a rough edged sedge that ravels right through their intestines, dragging with it tapeworms  and other parasites paralyzed by the bearberry.”

Source:http://www.herbmuseum.ca/content/bearberry

Sources

Beverly Gray, The Boreal Herbal: Wild Food and Medicine Plants of the North, Whitehorse: Aroma Borealis Press, 2011, pages 51-54

Mary Siisip Geniusz, Plants Have So Much to Give Us, All We Have To Do Is Ask: Anishinabe Botanical Teachings, University of Minnesota Press, 2015. (“How Cedar and Bearberry Came into the World” is well worth reading, pages 33-36)

Kahlee Keane and Dave Howarth, The Standing People: Field Guide of Medicinal Plants for the Prairie Provinces, Self-published, 2003, pages 128- 129

 

 

To Wander

 

wander (v.)

Old English wandrian “move about aimlessly, wander,” from West Germanic *wundrōjanan “to roam about” (source also of Old Frisian wondria, Middle Low German, Middle Dutch wanderen, German wandern “to wander,” a variant form of the root represented in Old High German wantalon “to walk, wander”), from PIE root *wendh- “to turn, wind, weave” (see wind (v.1)). In reference to the mind, affections, etc., attested from c. 1400. Related: Wanderedwandering. The Wandering Jew of Christian legend first mentioned 13c. (compare French le juif errant, German der ewige Jude).
Today was a day for wandering (to turn, to wind, to weave) in the coulee. Perhaps because I was unaccompanied by a four legged or two legged companion. Perhaps because my body felt slow. Perhaps because I could.
It was a day just before the riotous bursting of spring – the first flowers out, the aspens soft with catkins, touches of green here and there, the sky alive with flocks of snow geese and sandhill cranes.
For a time, I listened for the drumming of a ruffed grouse walking as quietly as I could. I remember doing this as a teenager…I was quiet enough and the eventual sight of the ruffed grouse drumming was unforgettable. Today, I wasn’t quiet enough… the grouse flew to another woods, but I did find his drumming log.

Walk in Wonder

I check in with my smart phone at least a dozen times a day, often more. This is a relatively recent habit, as there were no smart phones before 2008. To check in with my phone requires energy and attention.

What if I checked in with Mother Earth as regularly as I check in with my phone? What if I directed my energy and my attention towards Mother Earth a dozen or so times a day? Would this make a difference? Would it make a difference to me? To the earth?

I decided to try and see for myself.

I began with something simple, something I already do. My morning walk. I started by pausing for a moment before setting off – to take note of what was all around me, to really feel the earth beneath my feet, to thank the earth for her many gifts. What if I took my first few steps with love – love and reverence directed towards the earth herself?

What if my walk was like a prayer for healing, for healing of the broken relationship between earth and us humans?

Walking this way has made a difference to me. This simple practice puts me in touch with the earth every day, deepening and strengthening my connection with her.

My whole walk isn’t this mindful – I also like to stretch my legs, walk quickly, daydream, walk backwards, sing while I walk, or just feel good about moving physically. But now and again throughout my walk, I stop – take pause, take note, remember who I am walking on, take one more step with love.

Spiritual leader Thich Naht Hahn (93 years young) practices walking meditation. He writes, “With each step the earth heals us, and with each step we heal the earth.” He recommends kissing the earth with the sole of your foot.

I can’t speak for Mother Earth, but I think walking in this way does make a difference to her. I believe the earth knows what kind of energy we direct towards her – whether it is distracted, hurried, reverent or loving. Whether we are taking from the earth with a spirit of reciprocity and thanks, or taking  from the earth with utter disregard. Right now, I believe the earth is hungry for our love – for footsteps and actions offered with attention, gratitude, and wonder.

Prayers for the earth. Prayers for ourselves. One step at a time.

“Family Walk Down our Road”, 11″ x14″. watercolour.

 

Spring is in the Air!!

Happy International Women’s day from the Kerry Farm Ice Rink, where spring is in the air.

How can I tell?

Ravens and magpies are more in evidence, swooping low. Dogs, young and old are chasing the ravens and magpies, even though we all know that dogs can’t fly.

The light is different. The March skies are starting to come.

I can skate and skate and skate until I am tired. Which is different from skating until I freeze!

The trails on our rink are sinuous and meandering, I love to follow their curves. I imagine I am a world famous speed skater (although Iin reality I skate quite slowly!) As I skate I think of the female leaders (from young to old) whose very integrity means they say what they have to say, quietly and succinctly. I am hungry for this kind of integrity in our public life. I think of all of the women in my life – my mother  and mother-in-law and grandmothers and aunts and sisters in law, my cousins, my daughters and their friends, my own friends – the women who have taught me about integrity and so much else. My skating weaves this way and that, giving thanks for all of these women, giving thanks for this day, this place, the very miracle of moving on a thin steel blade across ice.

Mia is digging….a snow sculptor

made in a cake pan, celebrating the last full moon

the layers on the inside of a snow drift

Last week, the North wind blew forming beautiful snowdrifts on the rink. Hello, Snowdrifts…this week I have been coming to know snow drifts, up close and personal. In clearing trails, I notice all of the layers of snow, some with grit in them, others pure white, some soft, some quite hard. Snowdrifts are best removed a layer at a time, and as I make a crack in the snow, the drift separates how it wants to…usually with lovely soft curves, just like the ice rink. Each piece of snowdrift is so beautiful. I place each one carefully along the sides of the paths. They look to me like a line of ancient women…standing in many different postures with the blue bowl of prairie sky as a backdrop. In the book I am reading, Braiding Sweetgrass,  Robin Wall Kimmerer describes learning how to basket weave. As she weaves, she feels as if she participates in “the beginning of a reweaving of the bond between the women and the land.” This is how I feel on the ice rink in a small way – working and playing with what nature gives us, what is already there to co-create something wonderful, and as I am doing it I am befriending  and getting to know the natural world better. In this, too, the women and the children will lead.

I give thanks.

(What I Love About) Art in the City

“Art in the City” offers young people an opportunity to experience the city differently – looking for art in all the wrong places, or at least, in unexpected places, as well as looking at art where you would expect to find it – in art galleries.  Throughout the day, the art explorers interact with art they see,  by sketching, writing, and sharing their thoughts with others in the group about what piece they love best or which piece arouses their curiousity. Each stop is a surprise. With their eyes attuned to art, they see art everywhere – on the delicate hoar frost on winter trees, in a park bench, in the pattern on a rug. on the side of a truck.

Alley Art

More Alley Art, some spontaneous and some part of an Alley Art project

Looking at ourselves in a convex mirror in one of the Twin Towers, downtown Regina

Sketching near the warmth of Joe Fafard’s bull

enjoying our Ujrainian Co-op picnic inside the magical spaces of Spafford Books. No one wanted to leave! Ever.

The most beautiful thing at Spafford Books – Oxford, the Bookshop dog

More beauty at Spafford Books

Beauty tucked into every corner of Spafford Books

At the Assiniboia Gallery

Playing Fox and Geese at the Art Gallery of Regina (making a huge doily) in the snow

At the art Gallery of Regina, viewing “Tedium”…about doilies….dancing the doily dance

Every art day needs a napping place! So much beauty, so much to take in – here we are enjoying a calm moment with the kitties of Excalipurr Cat Cafe (with cat birthday cake to follow)

With thanks to the Ukraianian Co-op, Tania Wolk, Leah, Robin and Oxford at Spafford Books, the Assiniboia Art Gallery, the Art Gallery of Regina, and the Excalipurr Cat Cafe, and Vera Saltzman, intrepid research partner

To view another Art in the City blog, by the explorers themselves, see  Guest Blog: Art in the City

untitled paper collage

Title? No title?

Title or no title? Sometimes, a title for a completed piece of art work pops into my mind, sticks, and voilà – I have a title. Sometimes, as in the piece above, no title comes.

i notice when visiting galleries, that i often look at the title of a work as a way of understanding it better. Perhaps the title offers a clue. Perhaps not.

What would you call this piece? What do you see? What feelings does this piece evoke in you? I would love to hear what your thoughts are, especially before you read on. You can contact me at sue@poachedeggwoman.ca if you have some ideas.

******************************************************************************

Here is a little bit about the making of this piece. After a busy fall, I started the New Year excited about creating art simply because I wanted to. My fall was happily busy working on a few commissions or creating pieces for classes I was taking or offering, but always creating for external reasons.

I began like I often do…by spreading out  large and small  paper pieces to see which colours grabbed me. First came the deep aquamarine or teal.

Then oranges, copper, turquoise, periwinkle, navy, fuschia, aqua, violet, yellow. Wheat paste scraps from Barbara, the deep  ultramarine a gift from Tania and Kami Jo, old shiny gift wrap, block printed scraps that have been my treasure for decades. Envelopes, shiny scraps, marbled paper. I played with these pieces of paper, tearing them, cutting them, arranging them this way and that. I glued two shapes together composed of pieces of these colours, but glued nothing down. Free floating shapes and scraps.  Pure pleasure.

 

 

 

 

 

The yellow wheat paste scraps suggested houses, so I thought, why not? I assembled all my scraps of paper on to different coloured backgrounds – orange, navy, teal.

 

Trying different backgrounds - orangeTrying different backgrounds - navyThe  two shapes consisting of torn scraps seemed to need orange backgrounds. The shapes seemed to me to be related is some way. They wanted to dance together. I had so much fun placing the shapes this way and that.  Using scraps of shiny paper, I made ladders. Using cut bits of dyed paper, I cut free floating steps in the air. Using my favourite block print scraps, I created curving and straight roads leading somewhere and leading nowhere. I felt the need for connections of one kind or another between the two shapes.

The world is reconfiguring. It has flown apart, with houses being upended and leaving earth. With new and surprising connections emerging.Collage before gluing down with a tree which was not used

 

I cut out trees, considered people, birds – none of them felt right. Somehow, stars did.final collage

The world is flying apart, and being reconfigured, and I feel full of hope. Too long for a title though!!

A week or so later, I read Shayla Wright’s post, entitled “The River Beneath the River”. Shayla Wright is a coach, spiritual mentor and facilitator based in Victoria, B.C. She posts “Lifeletters” on her website Wide Awake Heart which have nurtured and sustained me for the past year. In part of her post, Shayla beautifully articulates some of what I was feeling as I was rearranging colourful scraps of paper on an ultramarine background.

“It feels clear to me that we will not make our way through the mess we are in now, without our higher capacities. On a collective human level we are numb, fragmented, violent, and helpless. We have lost our way. Only a deep integration of our human and spiritual natures can help us face the enormous crisis that stands before us. Meditation is not going to do it. Activism is not going to do it. Our collective human evolution stands at a threshold. We have actually entered a liminal space, without a clear intention to do so. In the liminal space, we stand between the worlds. There is no solid ground. The liminal is the in-between space, the space where things pass away, the space into which new life emerges. We are standing there now, or perhaps, not standing. Maybe crawling, stumbling towards a future possibility we can barely see or hear. This future possibility is not only something we are moving towards-it is calling us. It has a magnetism. It is our strange attractor. It is asking us to become whole, to meet this moment with all of who we are. To embrace that which we have shut away. To step out of our bubbles, and travel into the unknown, the borderlands, the wild places inside us and out, what we have been avoiding.

The soul has a wild nature. It is not domesticated. It knows how to walk in the liminal space, where that which is known and familiar has fallen away. It sees in the darkness. It can hear whispers long forgotten, voices that are half formed, waiting for someone to listen and bring them into the light of day…”

Still, no title. But, it’s something to do with that liminal space, that Shayla Wright calls “in between space, the space where things pass away, the space into which new life emerges.” The colours and dance of the papers as I played with this piece spoke to me of not knowing, of confusion and uncertainty, of hope, of delight, of surprise, and wonder.

 

Ripple

In her book, Braiding Sweetgrass, Robin Wall Kimmerer writes, “In a way, I was raised by strawberries, fields of them.” She goes on to explain how wild strawberries gave her a sense of the world, and her place in it. She writes evocatively about picking and eating and celebrating with wild strawberries, and also about what the strawberries taught her.

We asked this question in the group of friends with whom I am reading and discussing Braiding Sweetgrass – what about the place you grew up in gave you your sense of the world and your place in it? It is a fine question and we answered with the first thing that came to our mind. It is hard question to answer, and as my first answer (birch trees) did not satisfy me, I continue to think about it.

I am at Christie Lake, one of the places I loved dearly as I was growing up. I return once a year if I can. Each time, I see aspects of the natural world here as if for the first time, or I remember something about the natural world that I thought I had long ago forgotten.

I love to get up early and come to the beach for a swim – usually before sunlight has fully crept into and transformed our bay.

I could watch the play of light and shadow and wind on the water, the sand beneath the water, the reflections from the nearby trees and rocky shoreline for hours. I suspect that I spent many a dreamy moment as a child doing just that. In this dappled world, everything is shifting and changing every moment…it is all glimmers, possibilities, dance. The felt sense I get here belongs to this particular place, and no other place that I can think of.

I can’t come close to capturing this feeling with my Smartphone – which wants to focus in on one aspect of the scene in front of me and give it prominence. As soon as I step into the water to try to take a picture, I create ripples, changing the picture. Even if I could capture some sense of it visually, I would be missing the smell of the wind off the lake and decaying seaweed, the feel of wet sand under my toes, the songs of the birds, the waves lapping, the distant drone of a boat engine, the CheCheChee of the osprey, the feel of this air on my skin, the sound that this wind makes in these trees at this moment. I would be missing the constant movement and interplay of light, shadow, reflection.

The play of light and shadow and glimmer on the water did not raise me, but surely, it played a part in the raising of me, in giving me a sense of the world. and how I see and experience it.

Befriending Wildflowers (the noisier version)

It was a very hot and humid day when we set out to explore the wildflowers of Pheasant Creek Coulee, with small sketchbooks in hand.  Each sketchbook had several line drawings of flowers we hoped to find, with a space to name it ourselves, and a space for the common name. I had anticipated moving quickly across the pasture to the hills below but this gaggle of 5 girls and 2 moms stopped to look at  and appreciate every wildflower – they did not miss one – and gave each some very fun names. We collected a few to paint later and proceeded to a very steep hill full of western wild bergamots and a scary climb down  (for some!) that ended with a slide several feet down to the road!!

We returned to Kerry Farm a little overheated, but cooled down with a delicious potluck lunch. We found some shade to really look closely at our wildflowers and experiment with watercolour painting. Along the way, we visited Grandmother Willow (for a little tree climbing and some feather collecting) and said hi to the horses. We ended the day with some flower yoga and gymnastics as you can see.

This is a companion piece to Befriending Wildflowers (the Quiet Version)