family week, day 2

Today started with oatmeal around the campfire (resurrected by Sugar from last night's coals), me marveling over my coffee that I had not once heard the back door during the night.  Best first night ever!

Breakfast completed, we walked over to the neighbor's yard sale to see what treasures we might find.  A tall, elegantly carved bird for me, wind chimes for Spice, a clock and photo frame for Nice, and a collapsible tin cup and two wooden cars for Lil' Snip.

Home again, the children headed off with my Farmer to fish, and I set off grocery shopping.  Unfortunately their outing ended with . . . .

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family week, day 1

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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why the chicken crossed the road

To the drivers who play chicken with me (and win) on the shoulder-less country road where I walk in the evening:

Your ability to drive precisely down the middle of your own lane is admirable, but misplaced.

Out here in cornfield country, double yellow lines are viewed as a mere suggestion, to be ignored in favor of giving wide berth to walkers, joggers, bikers, buggies, and the random stray dog or cow.  Or when driving a four-mule team on narrow roads. 

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