The Last Day of June

Richard, Bonnie and I are all stretched out on the ground at the bottom of the grass where the creek runs under the road beside my house.  We are laying on the ground, looking up at the branches of the Douglas Fir as they circle up the bole of the tree.

Richard has just arrived at the lake bringing a BBQ, the children's bikes and whatever else couldn't fit in the first load of summer equipment that came with Miranda and the children last week.

He took this selfie, put down the phone and was snoring within one minute.

It is 6 pm.  I have been outside weeding since 6:30 am.  I only have enough energy to look at the Fitbit and see how many steps I have taken in the day. Yes, I can stop for now.

Bonnie has helped me cut out the Russian Thistle, the burdock and many iterations of a small bush that carries a fungus that is deathly to the trees around it.  Michael ran by and told Bonnie that he had one other plant for her to cut out that was scratching him.  When he went to show her where it was, the Russian thistle was gone, which only goes to show how thorough she and I had been.

We made our way up to the house and ate supper with SJ, Lincoln, Shylow, and Eden Moore beside the rest of our family.  Mitch was sick in bed. Twelve for supper.  Six of the people 7 and under.

They were the big eaters.  They had run along the stream, played at the beach and been on their bikes all day.

Life as it should be.  Lived to the full by all.

Arta