C ~ Cloud Watching

     As a child, lazy summer afternoons were perfect for lying in the grass and watching the clouds. My brothers and I enjoyed seeing all the different things you could spot in them. 
    

    I still enjoy trying to see things in the clouds. This one appears to me to be a hand reaching for something.

    This next one provided me with a number of different pictures. A taco, the spout and part of a teapot, a man's face with his mouth open, a possible elephant trunk. 

    Apparently I am easily entertained.

B ~ Butterflies

     I have always loved butterflies, and always try to capture a picture of them whenever I happen to see one.

     Among my memories involving butterflies, I have three that stand out above the rest. 

    1. One lovely summer day I was in our backyard when I noticed some movement on one of the tree trunks. Upon investigating I found a butterfly sitting there gently opening and closing its wings. And then I noticed another butterfly emerging from under the loose bark. It was followed by another, then another, I sat on the grass as dozens of brown and blue, flecked with some orange butterflies emerged fanned their wings for a while before fluttering off, some landing on me before they journeyed on. 
    I had never heard of such an event before, and have never seen it happen since, but I treasure the memory of that special day!

    2. One evening our family went on a short drive on a narrow dirt road. At one section it was lined with trees, and the air was filled with dozens of white butterflies. It was one of those moments where everyone fell silent and simply looked at the beauty surrounding us.
    As we continued on our way one of the girls whispered, "That was magical!" I couldn't have summed the experience up better.

    3. Last year LV took me to a Butterfly Conservatory. It was everything and more I had ever thought a place like that would be with hundreds of butterflies flying and posing everywhere. Utterly delightful!

    

A ~ Arrowheads

     Every once in a while when Dad was reminiscing about his childhood he would tell us about how he would roam the bottom fields of  their farm and find arrowheads and beads. 
     He had quite the collection of both, but when he was fifteen they moved and his collection didn't make it.
    It used to be one of my goals while traipsing through our fields and playing at the creek to find some arrowheads to start replacing his long lost collection.
    I never did find any.
    Several years ago some of our history curriculum included a nice handful of new arrowheads.
    We looked at them and then tucked them away.

    I now wish I would have at least sent a few of them to him even though they aren't the real thing.
    I could send them now, but with him being steadily consumed by dementia, I'm afraid it would be unwise.
    And so I simply look at them and try to envision a barefoot little boy roaming the fields of his home searching for arrowheads to add to his treasured collection.