If you dig into our riverbank, under the white sand, past some brown sand, you might be lucky enough to find a handful of clay. Not red clay like you'd find any old place in Alabama or Georgia, but smooth, pure clay worthy of an artist's kiln.
We don't have a kiln. Or an artist. But we do have that nice clay, so every now and then the kids dig some up and get to working with it. Here, our 11yo ballerina is making a palm tree ('scuze the chipped blue nail polish, would ya? it's art. you know.)...
She already has the woodland critters and the fairy person ready...
And now, a beautiful palm tree for the woodland creatures...
And a - huh? - why, this is a nest worthy of Horton!
I didn't see that coming, but manage to swallow my snicker. Our ballerina's big brother isn't so good at hiding his...
Once he stops laughing, he offers a suggestion, because he's sure - he's always absolutely sure - that his sister wants to hear every one of his suggestions.
I can't remember what our big fella suggested, but I'm glad our ballerina keeps the Horton-sized nest how it is. I can't wait to see what hatches from those eggs!
