Dear Friend, I like to start my notes to you as if we're already in the middle of a conversation. I pretend that we're the oldest and dearest friends -- as opposed to what we actually are, people who don't know each other's names and met in an "Over 30" chat room where we both claimed we'd never been before.
That's how I feel about this blog sometimes, guys. Except that I'm not secretly in love with you.
Instead, I find myself holding pretend conversations with my probably-non-existent blog readers. (Except for you, Grandma! Hiiii! Thanks for sticking around!)
You: Why Becky, aren't those the exact same blossoms that you posted pictures of LAST April? And every April?
Me: No, these are beautiful new blossoms that look exactly like the other blossoms, but which I love anyway. I can never take enough pictures of blossoms!
You: Just like you can never take enough pictures of baby feet, your fresh eggs, and snow-covered tree branches.
Me (getting defensive): I like those things, okay? I like them A LOT.
And I do.
When we moved into this house at the end of last year, I found a squat and stupid tree in the yard that I immediately hated.
What is the point of trees if
1. They don't bear fruit?
2. They are not lilacs?
3. You can't build a tree house in them?
Since we have some extremely good tree-house-trees already, I was determined to pull the short tree out and replace it, either with a fruit tree or a lilac bush.
But first, I took a picture of it and brought it to a nursery.
The man at the nursery didn't know what it was, either. But he pointed out some little nubs around the leaves, and said "This is stone fruit tree. Maybe a cherry or a plum?"
A FRUIT TREE!
Well, I wouldn't have planted a cherry or a plum tree- (I'm all about apples and peaches, meself) but I certainly wasn't going to tear down a perfectly good fruit tree just because I'm particular.
I have been anxiously awaiting the blossoms on this tree, and for all it's tinyness- this little white bride delivered. She's so beautiful and white (not pink, like a cherry ought to be, though!). I can't wait to see if anything grows this year- since nothing did last year.
I hardly saw a single bee on the tree, but luckily our rough winds (and even light snow this week!) managed to come after most of the blossoms had disappeared again.
I have very high hopes.
And my fingers are crossed for an apricot. Even though this would be the shortest, squattest apricot tree ever grown. But I love it.
You: I really love when you tell boring, pointless stories about your trees!
Me: Thanks! Here's another!
One of my children was being terrible and whiney. He was moping around the yard complaining and moaning, as five year olds are sometimes wont to do.
I finally I said, "If you do a job for me, I will give you FIVE chocolate chips."
He was suspicious.
"What kind of job?"
"I need you to sit under the blossom tree and read a book, so I can take your picture," I said.
Dash away, dash away, dash away Micah!
He was back in thirty seconds with a Peter Rabbit collection and settled in for the easiest five chocolate chips that any boy ever earned.
And he was eventually joined by two other boys that didn't even require payment for reading under a miscellaneous stone-fruit tree.