I'll Take That

It is rare that we utilize the air conditioning at Little Red for more than an afternoon here and there.  Usually when the sun begins to set the temperature dips right along with it.  Summer nights are most often spent with the windows open and a light cover on the bed.  Not this summer, or more specifically not the past few weeks.

But that is in the past.  For now.  Yesterday a cold front blew across the lake.  It didn't bring us much rain, which we desperately need, but it did bring cooler air.  I'll take it.

In other news, it's fair week in our little town.  On Tuesday evening I participated in the 2nd Annual Fair Week 5K and am proud to report my walking buddy and I finished dead last!  There were a couple of stragglers behind us who apparently gave up the ghost somewhere along the course allowing us sole ownership of last place.  I'll take that too.  I'm not proud.

My little garden is in it's last throws of productivity.  There are a few stunted tomatoes clinging to life on shriveled plants.  I'm a positive thinker and I'm clinging to the hope that they will eventually ripen and move onto my lunch plate in the form of a BLT.  Yes I'll take that too.  And enjoy every bite.

Shopping Buddies, Every Girl Needs One (or two)

It is no secret that The Kid does not like to shop, that is unless a large box store with a super sized tool department is involved.  He dislikes shopping so much that after one of our moves he threatened to advertise in the local paper for a "shopping buddy" for me.  And yes, I do believe he would have acted on that threat had I offered the least little bit of encouragement!

Now me,  I am not one of those women that derives great pleasure perusing the aisles of department stores on a regular basis, but I do enjoy a good shopping trip now and then.  Especially when I have a particular need for something.

Last week I found myself with such a need.  My high school reunion is coming up later this month and I don't have a thing to wear.  Seriously, I don't.  When your life is lived in a world of perpetual summer, fall clothing is not a wardrobe staple.  I definitely had a need.

The good news is I'm not in Kansas any more (not that I ever was),  and here in the Land Where the Dandelions Grow, AKA the BAA, shopping buddies abound.

A call went out.

The troops were rallied.

A date was set.

And early last Friday morning the three of us set out on our  mission to find me something suitable to wear.

Upon entering the first store of the day we were greeted by the clerk with these words "everything in the store is 40% off today, including already marked down items."  Three pair of eyes lit up like Times  Square on New Years' Eve.  The helium voiced clerk tried to be of service, but who needs a stranger when you have two friends willing to offer their unbiased opinions? No rack was left untouched.  Items were collected, tried on, exchanged with each other, oohed and ahhed over, laughed at, and eventually purchased.

It was on to the next stop.  Who knew the season ending close out sale at Macy's coincided with some of the new fall merchandise sales?  Even better with a coupon for an additional 20% off if you used a credit card.  Once again the bees swarmed.  Items were both rejected and approved.  I was told that I absolutely could not wear that shirt with that jacket so put it back and keep looking.  We may or may not have all purchased the same article of clothing.  We were having such a good time that one of the clerks commented on our silly behaviour, camaraderie.  In the end more purchases were made and credit cards exchanged because someone, who shall remain nameless, does not have a Macy's card and couldn't get the additional 20% off without one.

The process was repeated again and again until finally we realized that it was now 2:00 PM and perhaps some sustenance was in order.  Lunch brought more giggles and guffaws and an opportunity to refuel and charge our batteries for the home stretch.

It was a grand day of estrogen overload.

We arrived back at the lake just in time for the dinner hour, exhausted and elated from our shopping foray.   With the aid of my peeps I found just what I needed....and then some.

Shopping Buddies.

Every girl needs one (or two).

P.S.  To Steve:  Sorry about your Macy's bill.   Hopefully I will be able to find employment before the payment comes due.

It's Always Good to be Prepared

On the land due east of Little Red lies an abandoned farmstead.  The house burned to the ground years prior to our arrival at the lake but the out buildings remain.  I have always been interested in paying a visit to the property to see if it would lend itself to a photo shoot.

I did.

And it did.

While I was disappointed there was nothing left of the farmhouse, nary a stone from the foundation nor a chimney that refused to die, the out buildings did hold some interest.



What I know about this farm is that it was once quite large.  During the Great Depression the WPA constructed the damn which began holding back water to form our lake.  As a result a portion, I have no idea just how much, of the farm was lost.  At some point in the 1950's the light bulb went off and our enterprising farmer funded his retirement by selling off some of his land as lake front lots.  Genius.



I'm not certain how long he continued to farm his acreage, nor am I certain if the fire was the tipping point for our farmer.  Today the house is gone and the out buildings remain in a somewhat decent state of repair.  The fields to the north and south of the homestead are planted in corn and soy and the several acres where the house once stood are for sale.



Which was the excuse I was holding in my back pocket just in case someone accused me of trespassing!

It's always good to be prepared.

Eating is So Over Rated

As summer winds its way into fall I find myself content to stay close to Little Red.

The Kid has spent the past weeks flying here and there while I stayed put squeezing every last drop out of summer.  Warm afternoons are giving way to cool evenings and all too soon the leaves will begin to fall.  The gaggle of geese in the cove grows larger by the day and someone recently mentioned football season is upon us.

I say hold your horses fall.  I'm not finished with summer just yet.  There is still a lot of baseball to be played and I haven't kayaked nearly enough.  My thinking is if I don't leave the cottage summer won't end.

The Kid says it won't work.  I have to leave.  We're out of food.

I say, eating is so over rated.

Slow and Steady

A slow and steady rain is falling.

The sound of it through open windows a melody softly strumming.

A welcome gift to the dry and brown that surrounds Little Red.

Slow and steady means whatever is given will be absorbed and savored by this thirsty land instead of bouncing off hard packed clay and rushing in a torrent to lower ground.

A slow and steady rain is falling.

A life lesson on a quiet Tuesday morning.

Where The Wild Things Are

It has been a "wild" summer here at Little Red.

There have been sightings of the usual: wild turkey, white tail deer, the occasional bald eagle and of course a multitude of little hummers who dart in and out of the feeders with such regularity we have considered initiating adoption proceedings.

In addition to the usual, this summer has been marked by the unusual.

It started in June with the fox.  Neighbors began reporting spotting red fox on the lane, mostly in the early evening hours.  The sightings grew more frequent along with reports that chickens and ducks were disappearing from hen houses and ponds in the general vicinity.  It culminated after dinner one evening when Henna sounded the intruder alarm.  She was raising such a ruckus that a thorough investigation was prudent.  That's when I discovered not one, not two but seven red fox of various ages and stages frolicking in the meadow behind our barn.  They are beautiful creatures with deep rusty red red coats, bushy tails tipped in white and upright ears always on alert.  I quietly watched their play until eventually the family grew tired and headed into the woods for the night.  After that evening the fox sightings waned and we assume they eventually moved on.

And then there are the screechers.  The crazy hawks that hang out in the massive tree in the same meadow screeching and swooping and raising such a ruckus you would think we were under attack.  This can go on for hours, a hawk frat party run amuck.  It is fun to watch but ear protection is advised.

The latest visitor(s) to the BAA is a bit more concerning.  It keeps to the cover of darkness venturing out only after dark when the neighborhood quiets and activity ceases for the day.  It leaves behind its calling card as a reminder that we live in an area where animals of all sizes roam wild and free.  What is it you ask?  There's bahr in them thar woods!

Bear scat has been spotted on several occasions and locations in the meadow behind the barn.  At first near the woods but once as close as the front porch retaining wall at our neighbors to the south.  It is most likely a black bear that has found an abundant food source in nearby woods and corn fields. The most recent evidence was detected beneath the old pine tree just yards from our barn.

On one level I would love to see it.  Watch it lumber along in all of its bear glory doing its bear thing. Have a photo session.  A conversation.  Invite it to dinner.

On second thought, maybe not.

I think I will just keep an eye out for its calling card and be satisfied knowing one of God's great creatures has paid a visit to Little Red.

Light and Shadows

"If you don't have any shadows you're not in the light."
                                                                      Lady Gaga

The play of light and shadow can make or break an image.  How well the shadow is utilized determines the effectiveness of the photograph.  Photography is all about light.  And sometimes the best light casts a shadow.  If the shadow is in your way....move, or better yet, make it work for you.

The same can be said in life.

Keep your eye on the light and use the shadows to your advantage.

Friday This and That

As you can see, I still have not figured out how to remove the big bold Flickr from my photos.  I need help with this one. Ben Buddy are you out there?

Yesterday while the rest of the region sweltered we enjoyed a cooling wind off the lake.  A thunder boomer over night had cleared the air of oppressive humidity along with providing a drink for the thirsty ground.  It was a glorious day.  The Kid pointed out that it was actually two degrees cooler in Florida than here but (and it's a big one) the humidity in Florida was twice as high.  I think I'll stay right where I am thank you very much.

On Tuesday the BAA girls had their first summer adventure.  I know, I know, it's almost August and we've only just had our first outing.  We got an early start and when we returned several hours later a table came along with us.  Much to The Kid's relief it will take up residence with my neighbor to the north although we may have to help relocate it to Florida.

My lunch that day was interrupted by a Face Time call from Miss A.  She was excited to share news of her latest "pet,"  a three inch long beetle of some sort.  By the time I got the call our young entomologist had done her research, knew what it was, what it ate and its mating habits.  Her plan was to keep it in her room as a pet and feed it old wood.   Sometimes I think it would be easier to just buy her a dog.

Speaking of bugs, our new old friend Denny provided some "insight" into the biting mutant flies.  Apparently this particular strain was imported from Asia to help control the gypsy moth population.  (Who knew gypsy moth's were ever out of control?)  They do take care of the moth problem but are also as annoying as all get out when nibbling on me.

On a positive note, I have discovered that the little biters aren't early risers.  A morning paddle this week was pleasantly fly free.  Apparently they are teenage flies who like to sleep late,  originated in Asia and bite like.....you see where this is headed don't you?

We have Teenage Mutant Ninja Flies.

I hope your weekend is fabulous, wherever you are.

Dog Days and Mutant Flies

The "dog days" have arrived.

After weeks of rain and cool temperatures summer has emerged from the shadows pronouncing itself alive and well.  Life at Little Red has adjusted accordingly.  The garden needs water, green beans are picked on a daily basis, the kayak is launched in early morning or after the dinner hour to avoid the heat of the afternoon, and the air conditioning has even been tested a time a two.

I have attempted day in and day out to set up camp in the shade of my maple tree and immerse myself in a good book.  Within minutes I find myself under siege from an air force of pesky, "BITING," flies.  Not the over sized horse fly variety, but the common housefly.  You know, the ones that usually show up at picnics or sneak in the house through minute tears in the screen door and proceed to do touch and goes on the carefully prepared food you are serving.  Yea, those ones.  Now they bite.  I'm convinced this is a mutant variety that has mated with an unsuspecting mosquito and has now evolved into a lethal biting Ninja.

Yesterday I doused myself in bug repellent.  It worked.  For about five minutes.

Last night three of them stowed away with me in the kayak for a sunset cruise.  After successfully eliminating the little buggers you can imagine my dismay when I felt the now all too familiar sting on my ankle.  Somehow the three originals had managed to summon reinforcements before meeting their demise.  I swatted and cursed the entire outing.  When one went down there were always two more to take its place.

It has now become all out warfare and I'm afraid I am losing the battle.  I need a plan and I am open to any and all suggestions.

Now please excuse me while I go search Ebay for a suit of armor.  It could work.

The Replacements

Whats a body to do when you have raised two boys and sent them out into the world to fend for themselves?  When you find yourself missing stinky socks, good natured insults and appetites the size of a small army?

You find yourself a couple of replacements and rent them for a night.



Our replacements came at the low cost of two Pirate tickets and dinner at the ballpark.

There were even firework involved.



We had a superb night with our "replacements."  The Pirates won.  The fireworks display was awesome. And the boys brought back memories of good times with the "originals."

But I am rethinking that appetite thing.

Come on Flickr, Give Me a Break

Flickr and I have had a partnership for quite some time.  It works like this...
I upload the photographs I determine are blog worthy to my Flickr site, copy the link, paste it here and voila you get to see the photograph as I intended.  For their part Flickr provides image storage and maintains the link that allows the photo to exist on the blog.

The whys and wherefores behind this is techno geeky stuff that I don't understand.  And in today's every changing electronic world it may also be antiquated.  But since 2008 (give or take a year) it has worked for me.  There have been glitches along the way that occur when Flick updates it's web site and I have to spend an inordinate amount of time searching their site for the bits and pieces I need that make it work for me.  In the end I have always found what they had hidden away and life goes on.

Until now.  Now they have done it.  Screwed the pooch, at least as far as I am concerned.  They have added a line in the html link that embeds the Flickr logo, my user name, and photo ID onto the photo I post.   Like this.



I spent a good hour one morning figuring out what the culprit was and eliminating it from the link.  The ship was righted once again.

But Flickr must have discovered that I had undone what they had done and now have done it again.

Now when I post a photo on the blog with the embedded message deleted from the link I get the image I want, free of Flickr advertising and my user name etc. but the words disappear.  It looks fine and dandy on the composition screen but as soon as I hit post all text that I typed below the photo is hidden from view.

Come on Flickr, give me a break.  This is a low down sneaky way for you to get free advertising from little old me who has a readership of six (yes, we are down to six now.  It's what happens when you quite blogging for months at a time).  And I'm mad as hell and I'm not going to take anymore.

It may take me awhile to figure out how to get around this or find another web host for my photo's that won't take advantage of my good nature.

Until then please ignore the rather large Flickr logo embedded in my pretty pictures.

It isn't welcome.

And the Livin is Easy

The rain has finally stopped, or at least diminished.  The sun is now presenting its warm glorious self with regularity.  Summer has arrived.

With it comes early morning paddles, evening dog walks down the lane, and boat rides on the lake.  Of late I have found myself taking up residence under one of the large maples settling comfortably into one of the Adirondack's, book in hand

Sometimes I close my eyes and listen.  A simple act, an attempt to increase my awareness of all that surrounds me.  I hear the hum of a motor as a little fishing boat scurries across the water, the loud screeching of the hawks that swoop and dive overhead, the rustle of leaves as the afternoon breeze kicks in.  There is the distant caw caw of crows on their latest scavenger hunt and the high pitched squeals of children on the far side of the bay.

The pace of life here slows in proportion to the heat of the day.  

After all it's summer time, and the "livin is easy."

Sour Grapes

I am no wine aficionado.  Nor do I pretend to be one.  I didn't stay in a Holiday Inn Express last night either so that definitely eliminates me from the group entirely.  I do however, enjoy a nice glass of vino around the dinner hour.

I am not finicky about my selections but I know what tastes good to my untrained palate.  My wine of choice has varied over the years.  In my twenties I leaned towards the sweet and cheap.  (Boone's Farm Strawberry Hill was a staple in my dorm room closet.)  But over the years as my taste matured I moved to the opposite end of the spectrum sipping Chardonnay and the full bodied reds.

Then the headaches struck and I backed off of the reds.  The headaches continued so out went the chardonnay.  Once again I shifted toward the lighter, sweeter wines.  White Zinfandel seemed to be a good fit...for a time.

My current wine of choice is sauvignon blanc.  Still on the lighter side but much drier and not headache inducing.

Last week I found myself out of vino.  It was a crisis of minor proportions.  You have to understand that my summer residency is in a state that holds a tight reign on all alcohol sales.  There is no running to the local Publix or Piggly Wiggly to grab a bottle or two for dinner.  When you live on a lake near a town with one stop light there is no state run store to be found thus advance planning is not only helpful but critical.

On this evening after a day of hard labor stacking wood we enjoyed a quick dinner out on the Ohio side of the lake.  Ohio is a state that has come to its senses permitting wine sales in local grocery stores.  As we exited the restaurant The Kid pointed out that there was little convenience store two doors away where I could procure some wine.

I knew I was in trouble when I walked in the door and came face to face with shelves lined with bottle after bottle of Arbor Mist, Boone's Farm and Thunderbird.  I should have thrown in the towel right then and there, but oh no, I'm nothing if not persistant.  After a thorough search I found something of interest.  On a bottom shelf.  Covered in dust.  A nice little Riesling.  "This will do," I chirped and snatched up a bottle (or maybe two.)

I popped the cork on Friday evening.

Apparently what I failed to take note of while I was blowing the dust off the bottle was the little tag line on the label.  The one in bold capital letters that read "REFRESHINGLY SWEET."



The stuff was nasty!  Sickeningly sweet with a hint of I've been sitting on the shelf too long.

I couldn't drink it.

"Don't throw it out," The Kid insisted.  "One of these days you will be desperate and you'll drink it."

Seriously?

Has it come to that?

Maybe the next time I should just reach for the Thunderbird and save a buck a two.

A Perfect Beginning

The kayak slid slowly into the placid water; sparking ripples that spread without fanfare across the tranquil blue.  The quiet interrupted only by the plop of water droplets trickling from the paddle as it dipped and rose in a timeless rhythm.

The lake, a deep inky blue, cast back the glory of the morning sky.

An eagle perched high on a leafless tree watched our every move.  It's white head gleaming in the morning sun.

The hour was early.  The pace slow.  The beauty undeniable.

The perfect beginning to a summer day.

Somehow I know that whatever the remaining hours hold, these moments will sustain.

A Fish Tale of Sizable Proportions

As we finished dinner on Monday evening, with no baseball that held any interest on the horizon, The Kid announced that he was heading down to the dock to do a little fishing.  Before long he sauntered off, fishing pole in hand looking to enjoy the peace and quiet that dropping a line in the water on a  warm summer evening provides.

An hour or so passed when I heard the front door slide open and The Kid excitedly call, "I need you.  On the dock.  Bring your camera or your phone or something.  I need a picture.  No one is going to believe me."  I quickly grabbed my phone and followed his long, hurried strides back to the dock.

"What's going on," I asked?
"I have something on the line.  It's pretty good sized.  I don't know what it is for sure.  It might be a carp.  I hope it's still there, it went under the dock."

We gave out a collective sigh of relief, when moments later, he determined that it was, indeed, still on the line.  After some careful manipulation from The Kid, the fish emerged unscathed from beneath the dock and stuck his head out of the water.  It was no fat carp and he soon realized we were ill prepared to land it, whatever "it" was.

Reinforcements were needed.

While I called for help, The Kid continued to wrestle the monster and keep him out in open water.  Within minutes our neighbor Tom arrived on the scene, grabbing a net out of his boat along the way.  After a couple of failed attempts and leaning as far out over the water as possible Tom managed to get the net under it and lift the fish safely to the dock.



The two worked together untangling fish from net and removed the hook, loosely held in the corner of its mouth.



What emerged was a 36" Muskie!



Quite the prize and an amazing feat considering it was caught on a pole with a 50 year old reel,  6# test line and a hook the size of a peanut.  (If you aren't familiar with fish speak it translates to never should have landed a fish that big with such puny gear.)



After fighting for almost an hour, this bad boy was done in.  He was admired and photographed.  Then, he was gently returned to the lake where he rested for a few minutes before swimming off.



The boys said it's been a long time since they have seen a smile that big on their Dad.

I'm inclined to agree.

Henna's High

Our sweet girl is deathly afraid of fireworks.  The booms and bangs of the annual Forth of July celebration are enough to send her into a fit of tremors and shakes that would easily score a 7.3 on the Rictor Scale.  All of this shaking is followed by loud panting and drooling.  The kind of drooling that leaves large puddles on the floor.

At her last visit to our veterinarian this state of anxiety came up in conversation.  "No problem" said the vet, "I'll give you a mild tranquilizer for her.  It won't hurt her, just mellow her out."

When the big day dawned I was prepared.  Around 4:00 PM I administered the proper dose (actually only a partial dose as she wasn't too keen on the pill and kept spitting it out), and promptly forgot about it.  Fast forward an hour, give or take, when this conversation took place.

Chris:  "Mom, some thing's wrong with Henna"
Me:  "Seriously?  What do you mean some thing's wrong with Henna?"
Chris:  "She can't walk.  Her back legs won't work."
Me:  (Puzzled) "What do you mean she can't walk?
Chris:  "Her legs don't work and her eyes are funny."
Me:  (Light bulb moment)  "It must be the tranquilizer I gave her."

And there she was, poor thing, trying to walk but nothing would work in sync.  One leg wobbled to the left, the other to the right.  She took one tenuous step after another until finally she gave up.  Waved the white flag in defeat and stared up at me through glassed over googley eyes, as if to ask, "what the hell did you do to me?"

Chris:  "Mom, she's stoned."

And from some better left unknown member of the peanut gallery:  "I had a few nights like that when I was in college!"

Yes indeed our girl was stoned.  Higher than the fireworks streaking across the night sky.

Eventually we assisted her up the few steps into the house where things went from bad to worse.  Those little wobbly legs became ice skates on steroids once she hit the wood floor.  Front legs splayed out on either side of her, back legs dancing and sliding to a beat known only to them.  It was a sight to behold.

Finally, after several failed attempts to hop up onto her spot on the bunks, she nestled in and began to sleep it off.  The Kid was convinced she was dead when the following morning she failed to move when he tried to wake her.

I can happily report she is fine now, back to her old self, no ill effects from her "high" time!

I can also report that the earth shattering booms and bangs on that night didn't phase her one bit.

Nope, not one bit.

Reflections

I am fascinated by reflections.  I particularly love the way images are bent and twisted by the larger than life sized windows found in big city buildings.  These reflections are especially beautiful when the angle of the light is low bringing life and dimension to the scene.

This one was spotted on a recent visit to Pittsburgh.  The sun was high in the sky but still I was drawn to the play of light and color reflecting back at me in the urban landscape.

Who says cities are grey and dull?  If we take the time to look, light and color are reflected all around us.

A Throw-Back World

Life at Little Red is slow of pace.  It is as if taking a step back in time, a "throw-back" world.

It is a place where kids roam free under watchful adult eyes masked in grandparent faces and smiling neighbors. The year could  be 1952 or  2015.

Joy can found everywhere,

in cart rides,



and dropping a hook in the water beneath the setting sun.



In dancing with sparklers flickering and sizzling in the dark,



and learning how to remove a fat "sunny" from the hook all by yourself,



Playing explorer in the old canoe,



and making smores with Uncle Double Trouble.



Swimming in the lake with a favorite cousin,



or making survivor treks up and down the Amazon River.



There is joy paddling to far off places



toasting marshmallows over an open fire until they are the perfect shade of done,



and driving the ancient Cubbie with Pappy,



There is joy in fishing



In July 4th shenanigans with cousins of all ages,



and catching frogs as dusk settles in.



It could easily be 1952 instead of 2015.




It is a throw-back world.

A magic place where fire flies light up the night and children tumble into bed with exhausted smiles and dream dreams of adventures that await at dawn.

Settling into the Quiet

The busy is behind me.

The days of summer that are marked by travel and must dos.  The days filled with giggles and grass covered wet feet, of melting marshmallows warm from the fire and sun kissed faces smiling back at me from across the dinner table.

The grands went home yesterday.

It will take some time to settle into the quiet; to regain the balance of every day life.  But adjust I will.  Right after I mop the floors, wash the sheets and return order to chaos.

However, I think I shall leave those small hand prints on the sliding door for just a little while longer.

A shadowy reminder of the busy and the ones I hold so dear.

I miss you Gabe & Allie.

Road Trip

Rumor had it that a new pool had been installed this spring at the home of the grands.  The Kid and I felt the need to inspect the project and give it our stamp of approval so a road trip was in order.



One of the great-nephews decided to go along for the ride.

He had a hankering to inspect the new project too.



After thoroughly checking things out, we all gave the new addition two thumbs up.

Miss A demonstrated her underwater prowess.



The G-man as well.



It was a fun filled two days enjoying the cool water and warm sunshine.

(There may or may not have been an incident involving a pogo stick and a tumble into the bushes.  We'll just keep that one under raps if that's okay with you.)

When the time came to head home we piled into the car and low and behold there were a couple of stow aways!



Looks like it's going to be a rip roaring good Fourth of July at Little Red!

Red Sky

Red sky at night....and all that jazz.

Survival

Have you ever noticed that in the natural world things seem to thrive in spite of extraordinary circumstances?  Take for instance these flowers.  They are growing with abandon on the lake shore, oblivious to the over abundance of water they have been receiving from above.

My garden, on the other hand, is in a sad state of affairs.  Drowning from the excessive amount of water.  No matter that it was planted in raised beds carefully constructed to allow for drainage during the wet times.  Six tomato plants have already bitten the dust and my peppers are on suicide watch, mere shadows of their former selves.  And don't even mention the basil!

And yet 200 feet to the west, nestled on the water's edge, inundated with the runoff of 30 days of rain, these sweet white flowers continue to bloom and grow, utterly content with their soggy lot in life.

There's a lesson here somewhere.

Maybe I'll figure it out...once it stops raining.

My brain functions at a much higher level when the sun is shining.

Enough Already

We had a one day reprieve from the rain.

One day.

Monday morning we awoke to the sun streaming through our bedroom window.  The sky was blue. Nary a cloud in sight.  It was so beautiful that I drug the kayak down from the barn and gave her a good scrubbing.  Unfortunately by the time the dinner bell rang storm clouds were gathering.

So.

I drug the gleaming kayak back to the barn in the nick of time.  Just minutes before the deluge began.

Again.

I am convinced Mother Nature is sleeping at the switch or some heavenly prankster has mislabeled the switch. We are getting all of the wet stuff budged for 2015 in one month.  Shouldn't this be divied up a little better?  Spread out among the months in equal portions so as not to leave anyone out?  I say fire the bum.  Whoever is in charge of that switch needs to go.  We need an engineer or an accountant in charge.  Someone regimented.  Someone who plays by the book, not a free spirit with a penchant for practical jokes.

Enough already with the rain.

This rant brought to you by Noah & the Ark the Builders.

You're Never Too Old

The image above was taken on a flawless April day.  It was perfection.  South Florida at its finest.  I think I said those exact words to Stephen as we floated along in clear blue water, the sun warming our faces while Chris fished and Bethany and the kids searched for shells.

And then this happened...

The quiet was broken.

The gauntlet was dropped.



Cowabunga....you're never to old to be a kid again!