Paint in the Garden

TBG is quite confused.  He cannot imagine how painting has anything to do with gardening.  

The Prince gardeners, however, have no problem at all making the connection.  They're both fun.

I poured dollops of acrylic paint onto sturdy plates,

where, despite my admonitions to the contrary, they did manage to mix all the colors together.

Playing with the paint was as much fun as painting with the paint.  Below, the foam of the foam paint brush is jutting out, while the colorful, kid size handle is buried under thick layers of paint.  

I don't know why they were so proud of this, but they were.

They painted big rocks

and small rocks, 

some with more imagination than others.

They decorated the plastic containers

and the tire,

the raised beds

and the garden side of our brick wall.  

That happened while I was hosing off paint drenched hands, with the purple nozzle, over the purple trug.  

Allowing them to use the hose on for one another is, I quickly discovered, not a viable option; the temptations are just too great.  Not wanting to risk the wrath of the school nurse (who provides dry clothing) again, I paid closer attention to the water than the wall.

When I turned around, a big kid was using her fingertips to leave her own, personalized imprint 

on one corner of the already decorated bricks.

I decided to think of it as improving the space rather than damaging school property, which prepared me to follow one of the more interesting 5th graders as she proudly displayed her creation:

handprints which go all the way down the walkway and turn left to the gate, a feat which required her to pass through the garden's cacti and the Do Not Enter fence. I thought about that, and the obviousness of those bright red palm prints, and laughed.  

It was too late to do anything about it.

I don't think I'll get detention.  Neither will she.  The whole thing is delightfully cheery, after all.