It hasn’t rained here in a long time, and our native plant gardens have turned brown and crunchy. But even in this depressing, desiccated landscape Rob and I still managed to have fun this weekend–well, at least part of the time, when we weren’t dragging …
Okay, I confess I’m back into the 2008 journals. This time I’ve been reading about the trip that Mom, Bun, Kris, Sophie, and I took to New Orleans in July. Sophie was only seven then, and we all loved to tease her and she loved …
My sister Bunny has chickens! They are Dominiques, about five months old. On Friday I got to visit them for the first time.
We celebrated Jake’s seventh birthday on Saturday with a pool party at Kris’s house. Once again, Sophie created the cake—with Mom’s help, of course. This time she made cupcakes—each one frog-faced. (Frogs are Jake’s favorite animals.) The cupcakes were so adorable. The frogs had red-hot …
Here’s a little more from the journal I kept during our Oregon trip (so long ago, when Sophie was three):
Last night I was reading the journal I kept during our trip to Oregon in 2004. That’s the last time we visited my brother Jacob–six years ago, which makes me sad. Sophie was only three then, and Jake was a smiling, serene baby with big blue eyes and a bald head …
On Saturday afternoon Rob and I went to my sister Kris’s house to celebrate her birthday. Kris’s daughter, Sophie, who’s nine, planned the entire party, baked the cake (with my mom’s help), and saw to every detail. It was a summery beach-themed party, and Sophie insisted that we all wear plastic …
Saturday morning was so strangely cool and bright, a welcome change from the usual July humidity and haze. I ran around the yard taking pictures and feeling wildly happy. My giddiness reminded me of the way I used to feel …
I love summer at home in the yard: the warm nights, owl sounds and frog cries, fireflies, pungent groves of dog fennel, box turtles eating slowly out of the cats’ bowls . . . the mountainmint busy with all different kinds of bees and wasps and colorful flies. . . .
