Happy 49th Birthday, Trell.
I am wondering how you will celebrate the events.
Here you will receive the warmest of blogging greetings. I am guessing your event will be low key – a nod to the beginning of the last year of the fortieth decade to heaven. NIce work at another year of good health and much happiness.
We burned the limbs of an aging birch tree today. Richard took them down from the tree, cut them into lengths, pulled around some allen block from between and garages and made them into a firepit on my patio.
I shall call the groupings that gathered around the fire tonight Trell’s honorary party. At one point it was Phillipp, Harald, Amir, Pouria, Connor and me. Later Miranda brought Alice over while Michael played in the dirt pile and Richard tended the fire.
“What terrible parents we are. Look, we are letting him play in the dirt in his pyjamas. Now it will be another bath before bed.” That is what Richard said, lovingly remembering all of the dirt he moved in the same back yard when he was a child.
He was not the only one to move that soil. You started it. Dirt piles moved with kitchen teaspoons. Probably tens of spoons buried deep in the dirt now. I still find little cars and trucks in that area when I dig in the soil.
I hope your 49th year will include at least some memories as good as that one.