In the Dirt.

She steps up to the bucket on the loader,
"I am helping.  Where is my shovel?"

The cuttings I took back in July need to be potted into individual plant pots.

They are ready,

roots in whirling masses at the base of each.

Back in the spring,

she had watched me at this same bucket,

potting up the plants that I dug up and divided.

And now she knew everything about it.

That is how she works.

She watches once or twice,

and then is an expert on every subject.

Her incredible mastery skills are turning my hair gray.

Her chatter is a constant.

She must pronounce each move and dig and step to be taken in the planting into the pot.

It is as if she is a miniature Martha Stewart out in her garden.

Suddenly we hear her father's voice from over at the chicken house.

He is yelling something...

calling the other two to come and help him.

"What is Daddy yelling for?"

she asks me.

"He's calling for help from Violet and Levi,"

I respond as my concentration is divided by her constant prattle,

and my own mental calculations of which plant should go into the different sized pots.

 "He wants them to come work,"

she continues.

"We are already working, Mommy.

I am helping you because I can do a good job and be careful,

and I like to help you plant these plants."

 "Daddy won't yell to us

because we are working hard,

and Daddy likes working hard."

I laughed at her uncanny sense to bluntly identify situations.

She knows her father.

Perhaps she is more of an expert on things than I think.

Linking up to:
Homesteadrevival.blogspot.com

Cornerstoneconfessions.com
Raisinghomemakers.com 

Wearethatfamily.com