We had visitors over the weekend. Our oldest grandson and three of his buddies managed to coordinate a trip Up North. Two of the guys slept in our young Dave's vintage VW camper.
A third chose the semicivilized relative comfort of our front porch, while a fourth slung his hammock in what still remains (we've been hacking away at it lately) of our popple grove.
In the morning, everyone was glad that the tramping around in the grove, as well as Sarah's interested sniffing--which was our first clue that they were there--had spared the lives of these adorable little bunnies in their soft, down-lined nest. No, my vegetable garden will not need rabbits, but who can look on these tiny lives and not feel protective toward them?
There was other weekend excitement, well timed. You know I'm not going to give away the secret location, but look at these beautiful morels! Why is Gumby wearing morels as oven mitts? How did Barbie get involved? What is Pokey's role in the scene? You must remember from older posts on Barbies and plastic horses how we are in this family.
It's good to know the younger generation shares our sensibilities.
Conversation with the four twenty-somethings was good, running the gamut from banking and bees, chickens and dogs to vehicles and wildflowers. They are mechanics, inventors, gardeners, campers and hard workers who also know how to play. Oh, and they read books, too. They give us hope for the future.
