Norfolk Botanical Gardens is hosting a LaternAsia exhibit. While I’m sure the lights are captivating at night, in daylight, the art dotted gardens take on a fantasy land feel à la Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory.

Starting tomorrow (April 15th) at 8am EST, in collaboration with Free Babes Handmade, I will offer a $50 instagram giveaway to the brand of bows featured in this post (among others). To enter, simply follow me and Free Babes, and be sure to comment on the giveaway post on my profile so I know you wish to be included. I will also add a temporary 15% off code for all in the same posting. The winner will be announced at the conclusion of the contest at 8am EST on Saturday, April 16th.

“And with a golden ticket, it’s a golden day…”

Sea temperature yesterday was 41 degrees. Her first solo foray into the ocean waves did not begin with a timid wade. No, she rushed in until only her head remained above the frigid salt water. What did she have to say for herself?

“Brrr.”

Today we are indoors, hiding from the drizzly chill. Aware of the dreary forecast, we trekked down to Fort Story yesterday to enjoy an afternoon of syrupy sweet fruit in the full sun.

She ran freely underneath blooming branches, nuzzled a bulldog, and shook her rattling toys before the Cherry Blossom Festival crowds obscured our springtime view at Red Wing Park.

“It’s all life is. Just going ’round kissing people.”
― F. Scott Fitzgerald, Gatsby Girls

When she woke this gray Saturday, Winnie pointed at a framed photo of herself, and said “baby.” Her fourth word. After breakfast, we watched the April showers wash a yellow film from the windows. Clad in her coziest pajamas with diaper snaps, I agree, amidst all the recent big girl steps she has taken, she is certainly still our baby.

She is developing an insatiably curious, Winnie-does-it toddler nature. Our front yard Viburnum is blooming, and she let me slip on a bishop’s dress from Grammy before going out for a closer look. I bent a fragrant stem downward for her, and she pointed her nose directly inside. Her nose wrinkled, she stepped back, and delightedly sniffed all flowers within reach. Wild one capped off our post-Easter rain playtime with a tasting of mud pies. I was raised by a mother I called “Dirtwoman,” as most days she could be found outside, in the garden. I just may be raising another.

With more than a few projects pegged for completion this long weekend, Monday began slowly with The New York Times. Winnie was in no hurry.