The essence of her childhood

I have three children.
The first, a girl, always wears skirts and dresses. She wavers on the girly side, and her idea of playing outside is making flower dolls and writing poetry about the birds.
The second, a boy, is as rough and tumble as they get. He currently has poison ivy on every limb, scrapes and bruises, and can identify all of the plants in our little patch of woods.
The youngest, a girl, remained a bit of a mystery in her early days. At a few months she began her relationship with the dirt, the one who always rolled off the blanket to feel the mulch and the grass.
My friend joked, "this little girl is going to be a perfect combination-- wearing dresses and playing in the dirt."

She couldn't have been more correct.

Barefoot and clad in the sweetest of dresses, she has unofficially claimed the blue shovel as her own. She works with her brother diligently as he attempts to dig out a rotten stump, or to China. Whatever comes first.

While mowing the lawn the other day, I noticed at the turn of every corner, the two of them working in the back of the yard and even though it meant another pull start of the mower, I ran to get the camera and snap this picture. For whatever reason, I have a feeling that this one will grow up and look back at this shot and call it the essence of her childhood. That's what it is for me.