July 10

I found this in our front yard while I was on my way out this afternoon.

It's a spent dandelion, but my kiddos call them wishers.

There's something so delicate about wishers. Just one good puff of air --or one good puff from a two year-old's lungs-- and the lighter-than-air seeds scatter and disappear. Just like that.

There's something so romantic about that kind of freedom. And the wisher's freedom reminded me of my own, which is very real, even though I often feel choked by my circumstances.