“The bee is not afraid of me,
I know the butterfly;
The pretty people in the woods
Receive me cordially.
The brooks laugh louder when I come,
The breezes madder play.
Wherefore, mine eyes, thy silver mists?
Wherefore, O summer's day?” [.]
We took a fishing trip to mirror lake, a favorite clime of sanctioned forest where we have our own secret digs and groves, discovered before this little nymph came into our lives. It was her first time exploring there, and her last for a number of years. I don't know when we will be back to this area again, where the wind brings wildflowers of high summer to life. They nodded their heads as if beckoning us to join them and do the sensible thing of making floral crowns. The most sensible wear them until they become listless, weighty with summer's heat and depth. Not long after, the wearer mirrored the act and napped the whole return home.
helpful little floral crown tutorial on the house that lars built