Being Granny

Goodness, these photos look big, at least as I'm typing ... .


Our lives are very uneventful but at the same time full of activity, such as on Thursday when I took the little ones to the Botanics. First we went to the café (of course) and then wandered down the path and down through the Chinese Garden.

Then we looked at the Aeolian harp, which we have never heard making a sound, though you couldn't accuse Edinburgh of failing to produce the requisite wind. Still, it provides a handy step for photo opportunities. ("How would the wind make the harp play, Granny?" "Um... by moving over the strings." "But how would that make a noise, Granny?"). Yes, how? Wikipedia says: The motion of the wind across a string causes periodic vortices downstream, and this alternating vortex causes the string to vibrate. Ah. Now I know. Kind of.

Standing on a rock, you can pretend to be a statue.

And then we came home and drew and stuck and cut. Granddaughter discovered that you could make a stack of felt pens, as below.

(Blogger won't let me type anything underneath this picture. I wish it would stop adjusting itself.)

Perhaps I should be achieving something more permanent than playing with small people who won't remember a thing about it when they're bigger, but how they enrich my life with their soft little faces, their enthusiastic cuddles and their innocent giggles.