Tommy always shares his finds unselfishly. These tent caterpillars (or flying caterpillars, as Tommy used to think they were "when he was a kid") sway in the breeze and loop downward from silver strands during the day, and there's presently a big jar on the porch that houses a dozen or so.
Tommy has multiple uses for his bat. One of these is the standard, swing-and-hit-a-ball use; the other is the catch-descending-caterpillars use.
Here's a long, silly story to explain two silly pictures. I was sweating in the garden, working on a peeling nose and a sunburn while looking like a stuck pig, when I decided to take a picture. Because I haven't read through my new camera's manual yet, I flipped a few switches to experiment when I came across THE PORTRAIT SETTING. On the LCD screen, I read the white-lettered Explanation for Dummies Like Me....."Portrait with soft, overall tone and beautiful skin tones."
I thought it was a funny guarantee to make to whoever picked up the camera, and I silently guffawed. Then, like any practical person would do, I immediately went inside, washed the manure off my face, slicked my hair down, and put a new shirt on over my grubby shorts. I also put on clear, shiny, lip gloss (like any sensible person would do). A few minutes later, voila!, I had myself A PORTRAIT with soft, overall tone and beautiful skin tones. What you can't see are my filthy hands that I did not wash and which I am slyly hiding outside the camera's reach. After this scientific experiment (also known as Vanity of Vanities), I changed back into my garden shirt and resumed planting the corn.
PORTRAIT one entitled: "Sullen Scaredy-Cat with Grimy Hands but Beautiful Skin Tones"
Picture two taken without the portrait setting: entitled "I Just Had My Teeth Cleaned for the Fifth Time Ever!" This is true, and my root canal has been scheduled for July. Apparently, we have great insurance and, apparently, I look like my mom.
And here's what I really look like without using the portrait setting. (Thanks to Beck for taking these three pictures.)
Millie's nails: freshly painted by Cassie. My nails: freshly painted by gardening. My nails haven't been this long since 11th grade in high school (a whopping 11 years ago). I've decided that apart from a few practical uses, the only thing long nails are good for is storing dirt and all manner of unpleasantries. I should take a picture of them clean and sparkling before I decide to bite them to the nubs.
This past week the girls and I again went to Nanticoke, only this time for a treasure hunt. Our heart's desire? Dark, rich, black gold-- well-aged and abundant. Destination? My cousin-in-law Scott's farm. He and his family had unsuccessfully tried to hide it in a grass-covered mound, but we mined it out.
I asked Leah to take a picture of us as manure miners, and she did, but I like this one better. My mom and had forgotten she still had a camera and were fighting like ninnies over shovel possession.
Scott and Leah's middle child, a tried and true Farmer Boy.
Leah and her boys. (It's funny; I was in the middle of a three point turn when I looked out my window and saw them walking back to the house. Happy trigger finger...)
Later, we returned to look at their newborn pony Clippety-Cloppity.
She found a stick and was immediately transformed into "Gahlinnnda da Doog Witch."
Annika was quite excited about the kittens.
And the ride home, with a whole seatful of manure-plump feed sacks. I could happily use about five times this much, if not for the half an hour in between our soil and the source of this stuff. There are many reasons to look forward to a move Nanticoke-ward. I am excited about having a garden on land we own....and a cousin-in-law up the road with a manure spreader and an ample supply of black gold.
My mom made fresh rhubarb crunch, and Millie helped her in the rhubarb patch. She also discovered that raw rhubarb, though yummy, is a bit tart.
The next morning, only Susannah and I were awake to wave John off to work. As we walked out, John and I joked about the beauty of manure in early morning light, so I went inside to retrieve the camera.
Plus, Susannah looked pretty darn cute gathering dandelions in her nightgown.
You know how superheros always continue their line and, as they die or age, are replaced by the next generation of promising, young superheros? I have a feeling that this little bird may contain the superheroic abilities of her mother and become the next...(drum roll)...Chinless Wonder. Please do feel free to click on her picture for the larger size in order to judge for yourself.
The week before last, the girls and I drove to Nanticoke to put a desk in storage. We arrived in time to catch a few turns on the tractor as my dad brush-hogged the hayfield across from the house. Annie loved it, and loudly expressed her delight.
Millie loved it, too, expressing her delight with a downcast head and a little smile. She stood the entire time, wedged between my legs to avoid being jostled out by the bumps. Each time I was certain that she'd had enough, I'd ask, "Are you having fun?" (to which she'd vigorously shake her head "yes") or "Do you want to go back the house?" (to which she'd emphatically, though still silently, communicate "no"). Just look at that happy face...
Annie kept trying to share matters of great importance with Dad, but her little voice was hard to hear over the engine's rumble and a strong wind.
My dad just retired from 30-odd years working as a registered nurse, and he now has ample time to circle the fields with a brush-hog. He also now has more opportunities to wear his straw hat.
When we walked back to the house, we saw one of the red-breasted grosbeaks that mom and dad had been telling me about, with a red-winged blackbird thrown in for good measure. (Sorry about the quality; I took this picture through the window screen.)
Oh, and Mom fed us some fresh Rhubarb Custard Pie. I sure do love spring.
Right before we drove home, we went up to the pole barn to drop off the desk. Driving up Mount Hunger, I gasped at the sky and stopped the car to take a wholly inadequate picture out the driver's side window. When the golden sun burst through, I took these pictures of Scott's curious cattle (on a single hill) out of the opposite window.
Then, clouds again filled the gap and swallowed the sun. On the way down Mount Hunger, I evened the balance by taking this picture of the dark hedgerow.
I had just given my girls a bath one hour before, and it's not permanent grime. It is, however, spring and summertime grime, which means for the next 4 months or so, you can expect lots of grubby faces. Please remember this disclaimer before you decide to call Social Services.
Two weeks ago, we had an bonafide adventure! It wasn't an overrated grocery-shopping/laundromat/Fabulous Finds adventure, either. We drove down to Jim Thorpe, an old mining and railroad town in the Pocono Mountains, to visit with my brother Pete and his family en route to a wedding in Lancaster. (I took the above picture the night we arrived. It's Pete and Sarah's church, as seen from outside their house.)
I used to revere Pete, even squandering my life's savings ($350!) on an electric bass and amp when I was in tenth grade because he thought it'd be cool to play together. Somehow, his banjo and my neglected bass never got a chance to jive, and it makes a great story when unstrung in tall-tale fashion. I don't have time for that here, though, and tall tales are most enjoyed when told in the oral tradition, anyway. Suffice it to say, though I'd now ignore him if he told me to buy a bass, he's still one of the coolest guys I know.
After John and I got married, I was glad that he and Pete hit it off, and it's no surprise that I'm glad they're still hitting it off nearly six years later. And because they enjoy late nights over theology and dark ale, I get to visit with the cool girl who married Pete. (Don't worry; my editors said it was fine for me to use the word "cool" multiple times in one post.) Sarah's artistic and funny and crazy and honest. Many times, I've been struck by God's goodness in bringing two women I've easily grown to love into the Johnson family. Only two of my brothers have married so far, and both of their wives are woman I am proud and grateful to call sisters.
Here's Sarah with Gussy. Before He spoke the world, God ordained that Augustine live and grow despite the odds against him doing so. Look how big this little manchop is growing...
He smiles a lot, too, big and bright, but I only caught him with a furrowed brow.
We went to the park while John drove around town with Susannah. The girls were in heaven.
There was a brief interlude of purgatory, though, when Annika's flip flop fell off.
Galloping dinosaurs stop for no man (or flip flop), so she sulked for a few seconds.
And then went back to heaven.
Where she saw a falling angel (who was actually swinging downward, but swinging doesn't fit in the narrative flow as well).
I really don't know where I'm going with this, so I'll stop...
Here are Augustine and Sarah, who is outgoing and friendly with park parents.
And, lastly, Annika, who is concerned about the falling water level of her moat.
