The drums--on Front Street Friday evening, where my daughter and granddaughter briefly joined a drum circle at a street festival, and at Lilyfest Saturday afternoon, where my granddaughter proved her proficiency as a percussionist by pounding on her mommy's head.
The people--whose dinner we interrupted, whose baby we admired, whose hugs we accepted, with whom we shared ice cream while dulcimers rang out from under the trees.
The pretties--sparkly handcrafted jewelry, a row of carved bears whose noses my granddaughter had to touch, lilies in every imaginable combination of colors plus some unimaginable ones.
The pinecones--the tiny ones my granddaughter picked up from under the trees and held tightly as if they were krugerrands, and the gigantic one that sits on our mantle and inspired my granddaughter to lift her arms and say pinecone (or a close equivalent).
The words--the words she knows multiply every time we see her: pinecone and up and mama and dog and cat (while pointing to a miniature pinscher) and birds.
The hummingbirds--so many hummingbirds that no longer seem afraid of my presence and zip so close to my bench while I sit taking pictures that they feel like bullets whizzing past my face.