Dear Diary, Lyla is Now Two!


I have been “Honeybee” for two years now.  Lyla had her second birthday on April fifth.  She was born on Easter Sunday just as I was putting the turkey on a platter for Sunday dinner.  The day was as pretty as any that has ever been, and my young dogwood bloomed that day for the first time.

Lyla is my only grandchild-and in some ways, I was as nervous  when she was born, as when I had my own first child.  I worried, I would “break her” and what made her cry, I wondered.   I checked her breathing while she napped.   What does a grandmother do, after all?  Oh, how I hoped she would love me.

Jenny did everything right.  She was a calm mother that played beautiful music for Lyla.  Jenny had soft clothes for Lyla to sleep in, washed in natural potions.  Jenny had all sorts of contraptions, cradles that rocked themselves and a machine that made sounds like rain and waves.  Stars floated across the nursery ceiling while Lyla slept with the same soft bunny, that Princess Charlotte did . . .but Lyla was a fussy baby any way.

The one and only thing that was a guaranteed strategy, was to take Lyla outside.  I declared that somehow Jenny had given birth to a former “woodland fairy”- and I have not given up on that notion now, two years later.

It gives me great pleasure to report that, Lyla is an especially loving child today.  She still strongly prefers to be outside, but will cook in her little kitchen, from her Aunt B or look at books a good while.  Lyla loves to draw and she loves to stack blocks.  Lyla loves all animals and dolls.  Her Aunt B, just gave her the sweetest little doll carriage-and Lyla loves that too. (Aunt B gives especially nice gifts.)

I became “Honeybee” because I said a little made-up rhyme , that made her laugh, when she was still a fussy baby.  Honeybees do a lot of things.  Mostly, I share with Lyla, things that I love.  I do not worry about ABC’s and 123’s, but instead concentrate on sky and poetry, flowers and birds.  I am learning  all over again, how to make healthy cookies and soon, I will tell her stories about my own grandmothers, so she will know, that she came from a long succession of loving folks.

 Lyla reminds me of so many precious things.  Things known in the  the earliest days of childhood-like whispering.  I had forgotten how babies practice whispering . In a very hushed voice, they will chatter in baby language as if they are telling important and happy secrets.  They examine sticks and leaves for long whiles.  They never lie about their feelings, nor “put on airs”.  Lyla had as soon find a dandelion, as a diamond, in the grass-so now, I look for dandelions, too.  I am as liable to have a pretty rock in my pocket, as she is and I am now in the habit of waving at cats.

In some odd and beautiful way, grandparents and their grandchildren, are on common ground.  A place where clocks have little purpose-where wealth is not measured in dollars and status is of no consequence.  It is a place of  authenticity yet, on a dime, can turn to something very far fetched from reality-for while we embrace truth-we are not fearful to dream-and dream big. There seems to be a sort of liberty, in childhood-and then again, in later years.  It is really beautiful, when you think about it.   

Dear Diary,  I do not  proclaim to know much, and only few things, am I sure of-but I do know with certainty. .  . being a “honeybee”. . .is all it’s cracked up to be.


Happy Birthday Lyla!  Love, Honeybee

Dear Diary, I love April!


On the Way to Elizabeth city

It rained the whole way to Elizabeth City, on Friday.  By the time, I  arrived the rain had “set in”.  Showers came in intervals all afternoon.  Once, a heavy shower fell and made quite a racket.  Lyla and I were looking out the window when. abruptly, the rain stopped and the sun came out.  Quickly, I rushed to the porch with her, looking for a rainbow-and there it was!-a very faint arch of color over the laughing river.  It did not compare in brilliance with the one I had seen a week ago, at the rabbit patch, but it was Lylas’ first rainbow, and that will make it memorable for me.  Lyla stared in awe and said “wow” in a hushed voice.  

After a nice evening dinner, I went out to see the twilight.  The rain had been stopped for hours, but the distant sky was full of flashing.  The air cooled off considerably.  At last, we heard thunder foretelling of an impending storm.  Will, Lylas’ dad, took her to the front porch.  There was wind, which delighted Lyla-and the sky was flashing lightening in all sorts of arrangements.  Lyla was delighted.  Moments later, we heard the familiar sound of hail .  It only hailed a few moments, thankfully.  When we went in, I wondered what Lyla thought about the sky, with its’ rainbow and flashing lights- and then the hail.

On Saturday

Saturday dawned bright and fair and seemed to call my name.  It was  going to be a good day for wandering.  I saw a robin in the yard when I went out.  He had a mouth full of nesting materials and so I wished him well.  The dogwood, just outside of Jennys’ kitchen window is in full bloom.  It is supposed to wait for Easter, but shows no sign of regret about that.  It is full of “April snow” and just lovely.

After breakfast,  I did take to wandering.  I took my sweet, little companion, Lyla with me.  The streets are lined with all varieties of flowering trees.  I especially love the weeping cherry trees with their flowery tendrils.  Friendly people were out in many yards tending the soil in various fashions. We saw some young children chasing bubbles in the gentle breeze.  Spring is a fine time for such things.  Chimes tinkled from porches and seemed the perfect music when teamed with the songbirds, for the first day of April.  It sounded like an “out-of season” rendition of  Joy to the World.

 In the, afternoon, after Lylas’ nap, Jenny and I took Lyla out again.  The sky was as bright as October with only a few friendly clouds and so we watched them a while. We walked to a park with swings and slides-and seagulls.  We  had a good time beneath the sky with friendly clouds and supper was late because of that.


Breakfast was served and cleared away.  Fresh strawberries were cut and sugared for a strawberry short cake- and a pound cake was baking-all by ten am.  The day was every bit as lovely as the day before it.  April has made a grand entry this year, I thought.

Sunday dinner was served at twelve-thirty.  Wills’ mom, Miss Claudia came and so we ate in good company.  Lyla was especially happy about the cake.  She has only recently tasted cake and has decided there should always be a cake in the kitchen.  She has put forth great effort to say “cake” and does so perfectly, with emphasis on the ‘k” sound. 

Monday Morning

Early Monday morning, I saw some young “lady cardinals” fussing in the oak trees.  Meanwhile, a robin was having breakfast, where Will had removed a small and dead peach tree.  I don’t remember ever seeing robins quarrel.  Squirrels were racing about and seemed very preoccupied with squirrel business.

 There is a ladybanks rose in full bloom, in the neighbors’ yard that ought to be in a magazine.  It runs up the side of a shed and then grows upright several feet.   Plumes of yellow blossoms cascade like a  floral fountain , making a spectacular “splash”.

An hour later, as I carried my bags to the car,  I thought what a lovely occasion, the weekend had been.  I went past, the stroller and noticed yesterdays’  gathered flowers strewn in the seat-like souvenirs . . . Dear Diary,   I love April!