The boy brought home a bunch of peonies the other day - the petals were in tight little bigs.
They've since transformed into face-sized, papery-yellow blooms.
It's a bit like have different flowers.
Stoic enough to remake a garment several times over until it's good enough to wear out in public, foolish enough to buy more yarn than I could ever hope to knit, and hopeful enough keep doing it anyway. Plus the other stuff in my life.