Not sticking to the plans

This is not white. I remember having dreams of building a white garden. Now in August I find that I have almost everything else but white. It began with the petunias by our front door. I couldn't resist the promising pink. They have lasted well in spite of being almost utterly neglected, no deadheading.



Then this old chipped pot just wanted to be filled with pink bloomers and since the petunias were already pink...



And then on a whim a threw a packet of seeds in a wanna-be-flower patch. The result: a cloud of pink.



So now wonder the new cushions are pink. The sun shines on our back patio all morning, so it is a blissful spot for having coffee.



And when I look in front of me I see my little herb garden all grown wild. The scent a heady mixture of sage, peppermint, oregano and lavender. A huge rhubarb rules in the middle, and see my little yellow zucchinis (look closely!) gathering strength by the wicker chair?



And ta-da! The playhouse, our little house by the sea. Finally got all of the details on the outside painted off-white so I can show it to you. I just adore it. It's small and it's still a little house.



The inside still needs a coat of paint, white it will be. The pink strawberry bunting hanging on the back wall is all of the crafting I've done the past week (not counting the endless crochet, crochet, crochet...)

And on a more solemn side note, I haven't been sticking to my plan on parenting either. Oh, why can my children bring out the worst of me at times? They are my everything and then in the middle of the circus called night time routines I feel I could just scream until my head pops off. The guilt, now, as they have surrendered into sleep and lay in golden slumber in our family bed, their fingertips touching each other even in sleep, sweet siblings. Sigh. I will seek comfort in the voice of Sophie Zelmani.