It's family week at our farm.
The tent has been taken down from the attic and set up under the sweet gum tree, by the hammock.
The brush was burned away and a campfire laid in its place.
Sleeping bags, thrown out of upstairs windows, have been arranged in the tent - four this year. Lil' Snip is old enough to brave the elements with his sisters, he thinks. I hold my tongue, and pray. They bring down pillows, too, warm pajamas, and flashlights.
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