taking peace and quiet when you can
What am I, Italian? Love the hand gestures, dork.
My parents generously offered to watch the big kids for a weekend getaway for us and BabyLoves to go to the Lodge. It’s our magical home away from home in Wisconsin. The acreage includes hills, a trout stream, paths in the woods, lots of woods, more bugs and dirt than you can shake a stick at. It’s paradise.
We scooted out Friday night in time for the stars to guide our path. We slept in. We talked all day. I mean, literally. It was probably the first time we’d had uninterrupted conversation for . . . years?
I took my time cooking in the kitchen. No rushing, cajoling to eat, or fake “gotta go potties” so they can escape. Just sweet meals with my sweet man and big baby. Heaven.
Later that night my parents dropped off the big kids so SuperBoy & AA could camp in a tent in the yard–a big notion drawn from reading the Hardy Boys aloud.
And they could all go fishing. Not sure if there were any worms on those hooks. Not sure if they had hooks.
That little white speck? That’s SweetPea–view from kitchen window!
That little red speck? SuperBoy harassing her. This reminds me of a Thomas Cole sort of painting. Enormous landscape; small people.
And my heart & hands are full, wearing my old muck boots from my horse days that are apparently trendy?? and of course, sakura bloom ring sling. Can’t leave home, or even be at home, without it.
