It's no secret that all of us are a little bit afraid of the Bee. There's reason. No sooner did I get done bragging to Andy about how the Bee lately follows me everywhere, sits near me wherever I sit, and hangs out watching whatever I am doing than did she keep me from getting a big fat head about it by slapping me on the wrist (literally) when I petted her the "wrong" way (on the chest instead of [only ever] on the forehead). Andy heard the thwap of her tiny, lightning-fast little paw (and my surprised whinny) all the way across the room. Beeeeee!!! Why you gotta be that way??? We made up shortly after (after I apologized profusely). Getting roundly scolded by the Bee is always very nervewracking. It's hard not to want to pet her, because she's so dang cute. Well. Maybe cute isn't the right word. Cute like a baby goblin is kind of cute? Cute like the thing might . . . I don't know . . . suddenly decide to grab you by your nostril and not let go? Cute like that.
Reading How to Know the Wild Flowers by Mrs. William Starr Dana. It's so sweet. It was first published in 1893. I found this 1989 copy at Powell's yesterday when I was browsing around there as a little treat to myself yesterday afternoon, having finished the taxes, sent the sampler pattern off to the printer, and received word that our supplies for the kits should start arriving on Thursday. I have a new idea for a new embroidery project. These botanical drawings I've been spending time with are so beautiful. They are really inspiring me lately. My poor cyclamen. I guess it needs more sun than it is getting in our house? Or perhaps in the Pacific Northwest in general. It's like a visual manifestation of Portlander Vitamin D levels, somehow [swallows 5,000 IUs, stat].