The other day, my step-daughter, my husband and I went for a walk and collected some (non-native) leaves for decorating.
Martha they are not, but I still like them.
And here’s Bee’s:
In spite of the vagaries of SoCal weather (more fires already!), creation down here can be beautiful.
My step-daughter, who had a fabulous time on the second half of the walk, was whining about having to walk uphill at the beginning. Her dad and I told her she could either keep going or we could go home. That was the first time she ever said, “You’re a mean mom!” to me. She apologized (after paternal prompting) and was holding my hand and chatting about why leaves turn red three minutes later. Even though I knew something like this would (will) happen, it was still hard to hear.