Charlotte, the baby of the family, graduated honours with distinction from high school today thanks to a drive-thru ceremony that saw us on and off of school property within two minutes. I’d be lying if I said I missed having to sit through a three hour marathon in a roasting school gymnasium so I won’t bother.
Homemade convocation for our university grad, complete with hastily printed diploma, polar fleece gown and dog bouquet.
I keep forgetting to photograph my creative endeavours lately. There have been the cakes and muffins and crisps that we set upon before I can think to grab a camera. There were four pairs of boot cuffs for the girls, which would have looked nice in photos, but they’re both off here, there and everywhere, living their lives instead of posing patiently while I take pictures of their ankles. I just finished a pair of wool slippers for myself, but didn’t even bother trying to photograph my own feet because I can just imagine how unimpressive that would look.
But I did think to get a shot of Charlotte’s most recent masterpiece:
The Pickle Bouquet. A Valentine’s Day gift for her friends.
I want one, but with chocolates.
Glen and I went with Foster to The Look Off yesterday morning so he could paint with the Annapolis Valley Plein Air group and we could enjoy the view.
Here he is, hard at work:
And here’s the finished product:
I had the full posse accompaniment on an artist-scouting trip to the South Shore last Saturday and managed this snap of the fine young people who make me a mother.
(P.S. Graves Island Provincial Park is a lovely place for a spring walk in the woods.)
Here’s a wet-haired Anna with the scarf she knitted – all on her own – for Papa (my Dad) for Christmas. She made one for Jam (my Mom) too, out of a beautiful hand-painted alpaca blend, but it got away before I could snap a picture. There were a lot of handmade things exchanged here during my one month Journey into the Heart of Darkness (the, um, cold) so maybe we should have a photo session this afternoon.
The good news for Anna is that both Papa and Jam loved their scarves. So much, in fact, that Papa has requested a matching toque. Hmpf. He’s never requested a knitted anything from me.