One morning my brother in law set out a bubble machine for the kids. We watched them pop about a half gallon of bubble solution.
Lovely little pixie girl
Rafael would use her as a model if he were still around.
Mark
I love the bubble breaking action
Mark would say this cousin has just become “bubble blind.”
Photos by Daniel
We found this little fawn who had lost its mother near our cabin. Look at that beautiful face and those two inch lashes. Sigh. A lost fawn is a sad thing.
I feel a little lost myself, coming home from such an extended trip. We were loved and our children were able to interact with the greatest grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins in the world.
We had big adventures. We went rock climbing, boating, water skiing, spent time in several mountain retreats, hiked, rode the Alpine Slide, ate milkshakes, attended a two week ballet camp, read books, watched movies, got sick, recovered, scaled bridges, looked for treasure, drank hot cocoa in the Uintas every morning, competed for candy, discussed books, movies, essential oils, picked wildflowers, ate big meals, played badminton, rode bikes, built a dam, hand-washed dishes for 30 people, went swimming, and more.
The van is covered in mud.
The day after a vacation is something one just endures.
The poppies were in bloom at the cabin. We took about 600 pictures of them which I will faithfully share.
We sat down to watch Richard’s videos of the trip, only to discover that he forgot to turn off the camera as he went down the Alpine slide. He and Mark are yelling and we have a good view of his hand. The camera, still on, followed us through Park City, picking up gems of conversation such as, “That slide was too slow. I didn’t have any fun.” On the ride back to the cabin, the camera picked up a tantrum and my threat, “Pull over, Richard. Let’s see if this man and his dog will let Mark walk with them for a while.”
Sweet. Now my bad parenting can be available on DVD.
I’m also bad at feeding the children vegetables and seeing that they get adequate sleep.
My children endure it well. They can read and play piano, and they show well at church. (Phew!) Although, after weeks and weeks of vacation, I’m not so sure they can play the piano anymore.
This is my family in blue. Why not yellow? We may never know.
We have a cancer survivor, a professional puppet maker, two set designers, a medical student, someone born on a different continent, an engineer, a geologist, a world traveler, a couple of property managers, a ballerina, many pianists, a couple of violinists, two who play the harmonica, many guitar players, a few entrepreneurs, a famous sewing blogger, a healer, a girl with a pixie voice, dog owners, cat owners, a business education administrator, BYU fans and non-BYU fans, pickle lovers and pickle haters. Although the Y chromosome is predominant and I am small and quiet, I AM the BIG sister.
My parents, siblings, and families met for a family photo.
This half hour was the ONLY time we could get together.
Zip!
Zap!
Snap!
We took a drive around Fish Creek near Cove Fort to see the damage from last year’s fire. This was a place where Richard’s family memories are richer than their mine ever was. We wanted to see where the fire had been. It was sad to see so much land burned. There were enormous mushrooms which looked like boulders and the little oaks are making progress in some areas. In the places where the fire had not destroyed everything, it was so green and the wildflowers and birds were rich in variety and vivid color. Richard’s dad identified every one for us when we asked.
It’s good to have a friend with whom you can laugh and tell secrets on the window seat.
This is where they prefer to sit when it’s not over 100 degrees.
I sorted my notes and letters last week, hoping to organize them. What I thought would be a 20 minute job grew to several hours because it was so fun to read from and remember friends. I’m going digital in everything from my cookbook to scrapbooks and literature. I am trying to avoid acquiring too many things to clutter the house, but I can’t get rid of notes from friends and relatives.
I decided to group things by year. It turns out that I know the best people. My stack of cards from 2005 and 2006 is enormous. These were years of upheaval and stress. Until last week I hadn’t realized how many people reached out to us to encourage, thank, and welcome us.
As I sorted, I noticed that the letters from 2010 are few. I’m grateful, because it turns out my card collection is an indicator of how much trouble I’m experiencing. It’s also an indicator that people rely more and more on other means of communication. I do hope that old fashioned correspondence isn’t dead. I really love to write and receive letters. A note is something special that someone takes the time to create in a busy world with no time.
The S’mores were made by my friend, who drove across town to deliver to me when she discovered I wasn’t home to receive them. I tried to keep them from melting before they got home. We ate some and carried the rest into the library in my purse.
Generosity is worth preserving.