The future is in braids.
On Saturday morning my cousin and her beautiful girls came to visit us in Austin, to surprise my mother-in-law and bring her to lunch for her birthday. We don't get to see them much, so it was special to visit with the girls as they to grow into four and five quite nicely.
Those who know me understand how I love kids. My entire career has been devoted to them, and I am blessed with the ability to connect with children on their level, whatever the age, and to speak their language of curiosity and creativity. As the adult in the room who makes eye contact, who listens and who notices what children do or say when other adults do not, I am often treated to joys of life that are truly golden.
First thing my cousin said as they walked in the door was the girls had been asking about our stairs. None of the houses they knew had stairs, but they understood from books that many houses did, and were thrilled to learn that our stair has two landings! What better places to experiment with dropping objects and watching them fall? Especially from the upper landing, and especially using sweaters, since they flutter.
While things were dropping I heard the youngest tell the oldest "Look -" and she pointed through the kitchen toward the corner windows, "I see flowers!" Both girls came running down and out the back door. I followed with Popsicles because awesome, and joined them and my youngest son to take measure of the last floral hurrah of the season.
"What is this purple plant?" the oldest asked, carefully fingering its' slender taper and testing the bounce of its stalk. "It looks happy next to the fence."
"That's called Mexican Sage, I said. "It's a plant we grow because it gets along with our soil and doesn't drink too much water. Bees and butterflies also like it. And hummingbirds."
"Flowers don't drink," said the little one,"they don't have mouths."
"They have roots that drink for them," her sister explained. "The bees and the butterflies drink from the flowers 'cause they turn that water into nectar."
I suggested that she could take a picture of the Mexican Sage and print it out at home. Then she could trace it and learn to draw it.
Salvia Leucantha, Mexican Sage (non-native)
"Oooh, look," said the youngest, "more purple flowers!" and ran to examine the second tall, perennial Salvia in our gardens.
"This is another Sage, " I told her. "This one's called Mealy Cup. It's planted for all the same reasons as the other Sage."
"Can I take a picture of this one?" she asked. I showed her how to know the frame of a picture by fitting it all inside the rectangle. "Try to keep as much of the plant inside the edges as you can."
Salvia farinacea, Mealy Cup Sage (non-native)
"Is this about flowers or photography?" my skeptic son asked, well familiar with my ability to turn any outing into a drawn-out round of Waiting on Dad.
"It's about both!" his cousin announced, to his chagrin.
"What other colors do we see here?" I asked, and all three chimed "Yellow!"
Tecoma stans, Esperanza/Yellow Bells (native)
Larrea tridentata, Creosote bush (native)
"And red!" my youngest called as he ran to the Crape Myrtle hanging over the fence from the neighbor's yard. . "This one looks like alien kale!"
Lagerstroemia species, Crape myrtle (naturalized)
It was almost time to got to lunch, but I wanted to show them one more flower in the front yard. We stopped to admire the Chitalpa blossoms along the fence line.
Chitalpa tashkentensis, Pink Dawn Morning Cloud (hybrid)
Out front, right along the street, grows a brilliant and resilient bush. The girls had seen it when they pulled in. We talked about the slender bean pods and how they come from the same family as peas, but that one must never eat them.
"They are poisonous. Only look, never pick. Many wild plants with bright red, orange, purple, black or white flowers or berries are sending you a warning to leave them alone. Even when some are safe, we never eat plants without asking an adult if it's safe to do so."
Caesalpinia pulcherrima, Peacock Flower/Pride of Barbados (naturalized)
They regarded this unusual shrub and its dangerous tendencies with reserved detachment.
"I don't like peas," my son finally announced.
"Me neither," both girls agreed, and off they ran into the house for shoes. It was time to head out to the restaurant.
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When we listen closely to kids' ideas and observations, we hear the echos of our own childhoods and are rejuvenated in spirit and in our hearts. When we see and acknowledge their grace and balance, we regain the exuberance long since faded from our sedentary lives. When we understand they are the keepers Magic and the repositories of Mystery and Wonder, we come to know again those hidden places where our own souls danced in awe of the joy in life.
When we talk to them, they remind us of how the world can work.