Here I am, about 5(?), showcasing a gift from grandma Primrose (who took the photo, I believe).  The puppet bird (given to me because I had a bird name?) was a fragile web of of fuzz, feathers and styrofoam.  I remember not quite understanding how to make it walk, and being frustrated when adults could make it dance and bob and seem alive. It ended up in a sad tangle in the basement - not surprising.  It was not very warm in Saratoga, and I get chilly thinking about that kiddie pool. We tried to grow a garden in the back yard at some point, but it never really worked. My father built the redwood fence and installed it himself.