Boys will be boys...

"Look, if we go in the cabin, we just waste a bunch of time when we could be playing in the Imagination Station..."

"Oh man, this will teach her to sneak up on us with that danged camera!"
"HEY! She's looking! Score!"
So. Guess what they were doing?

Out of the garden treasure chest...

One of the first things to check when returning home after a lengthy trip, is the garden. AFTER the cat, of course. She makes sure of that.
What a delight to see the garden at it's peak, with sparkles of flowers scattered among all the verdant gifts. I already had the report of the punks harvesting 27 lbs of green beans on their first-ever-by-themselves picking foray. No self-respecting green bean bush takes that lightly. You know that after the first picking, it's like a signal to them to kick into high gear - so it was no surprise to see the bushes hanging heavy laden and ready for another picking! Have to get those canning jars washed...
As I wandered through the garden - OK, it took a machete to get through some of it -I reveled in the beckoning scents of dill and basil, the visual blast of vibrant orange marigolds against velvety purple balls of cabbage, and sheer joy in the energy of all that growth. Here are a few of those jewels...

After Carrie cleared some of the walkways of overgrown flowers and volunteer tomatoes which seemed determined to live up to their tropical heritage, we just enjoyed browsing through everything, visiting our favorites, nibbling here and there. Gardens are such a gift.

Brent says we have to expand the garden next year. I was really excited when I heard that, I do so love the gardening process. And who can say no to fresh veggies produced by our own labor! Well - boys can. We're still working on that.

Then he said, I just couldn't plant any more than I had this year. It turns out, he wanted more room to get through the paths. And less green beans to pick. They have limited it to three rows next time.

I guess six 30 foot rows might have been a bit much for rookie gardeners. Especially when the head gardener bails out right at harvest time.

We're not in Kansas, Toto...or are we?

Yoohoo. I'm home. Really. I am. A full report of the Bahama Holiday to come. Oh. You didn't know I went to the Bahamas?? Hmmm. Well, just check this out.

Can't you just hear that rhythm, that irrisistable beat...the salsa, the fruit, the sunshine...heaven!

I just couldn't shake those cottonpickin' tractors, though. I swear this one followed me from Wisconsin.

My lone suitcase still needs to be unpacked - hey, that's a record of some kind, I'm sure. Maybe even Olympic?! I did a three week trip with one - count em' , ONE - suitcase. And it was a little one, too. A carry-on. AND I didn't even borrow another one to bring home loot, which has been the pattern for many years of traveling to and fro.

Back to the Olympic games, while I pet my very very happy cat who has claimed the LAP again. The suitcase can wait.