Just keep swimming.

She knows no greater joy than swimming.

Running the length of the dock, she doesn't even pause before leaping, now.

 The loons and ducks know the sound of her just as she knows the sound of them.

I know no greater joy than her, on days like this.

Mushroom Party, 2012 edition

We've done this before, gentle readers. Many times. Many, many times. But I never get tired of them! It's the annual mushroom post, and it is happy to see you! (The captions are under each photo).

 Moist mushrooms. (I know you feel dirty for reading that, because I feel dirty for typing it).

Wee, dainty-stemmed mushroom that's almost glowing. Extra-terrestrial, if you will.

 Mushrooms breaking sod. Think about how strong these are, for plants fungus. They're under, what, 1/2 inch of soil? And they just come bursting in, all "Hey! What's goin' on up here??"

 The tiniest mushroom, for the tiniest smurf.

Some dried up, Yoda-esque mushrooms. Fungi I am. Seriously, that tall one on the left is looking at me.

Pancake/step mushrooms. I have no technical knowledge of mushrooms, you see, so I make up my own names for them. These I like for their spongy appearance and the cobwebs that cover them. And how they just go on and on.

Like the Yoda mushroom, this one scares me a little. It makes me think of that Stephen King movie, Dreamcatcher, with the ominous empty eggs. What black death has this mushroom released into our world? Who sent it to us? And why am I getting so close to it with my camera?

Here's hoping our annual mushroom party brings you sweet dreams of decay and persistence, evil weasel-like creatures, and Star Wars. Because that's why we're here.

I'm BAAAAAAAACK.

Oh, internets. I know I've been gone a long time. Not a single post in August? How is this possible? Ah. Well, I've been busy. Let's sum up, shall we? 

First, Jess and I have been working on helping Myra empty out her house. Mostly what's left is the bits and pieces of spending 38 years in one place: dust bunnies, her massive jigsaw puzzle collection, some canned goods that are too old to recognize, much less eat. 

And then there's this. A mason jar full of ammunition. This is the kind of thing the basement used to be full of, in various ways, but most of that got cleaned out after the flood of '97. So here we are, ten years since Dad died, 26 years since he used any sort of gun, with a mason jar full of bullets & shells. You can't just throw this stuff away, you know.

So we brought it to Mike, Hendrum's lone police officer. The thing I love about Hendrum is it's pretty simple. Got a jar full of live ammo? I know just the guy to give it to. When we showed up on his doorstep, offering him this odd, potentially dangerous gift, he just grinned at us and said he'd take care of it. "Some of these are still good, I think," he told us. "Have fun," we told him.

 V and I have spent as much time as we can out at the lake. Here we are playing Bingo in Nevis, wearing our "What Happens in Nevis Stays in Nevis" shirts. It was a good day.

 And we've enjoyed the company of V's cousins. Pictured below is Jake, who has decided that as a superhero, he wants to be ToiletMan. You don't want to know ToiletMan's weapon of choice. (And I can't explain why he's holding a stuffed fish, either, so don't ask). Jake is just 6 months younger than V, and hilarious and strong-willed. That may run in one or all of our families.

 In unrelated news, Shaun got a new job several weeks ago, so he's no longer working nights! It's good to have him back in the land of the living, and it's really the best job he's had in over a decade, in terms of the work & hours. Perhaps that's why he looks so dang happy.

I have other posts in mind, and though it was an unscheduled and prolonged break, I hope you'll forgive me, gentle readers. It's good to be back.

All's Fair...

We're pretty boring. Just like last year, we did the Fun Slide...

 And the Ferris Wheel....

 This year, V did a few more rides on her own....

 Because she is almost 52" tall.

She rode this Ferris Wheel all by herself....

 And Shaun pointed and waved. I smiled tightly and held my breath a little. A lot. (hello to the random family walking past in this photo)...

It was a really good day.

The Mean Reds

I know it's been a long, long time, gentle readers. I'm sorry. I think everyday about blogging, but each idea seems to have already been done, or seems to require more energy than I have to offer. Today I decided I've had a bad case of the Mean Reds, and now that I've diagnosed myself, I can hopefully figure out where to go to calm myself down.

V likes to hang on bars in a dress her grandmother brought her from Mexico. She's quite the little gymnast lately, and has conquered monkey bars from here to Duluth.

V also likes to be pulled behind a kayak, preferably one paddled by her other grandmother. Lake Belle Taine has been a source of much joy for us this summer, even more than usual.

There's no real reason for this latest funk (aside from it being how I'm wired and all): we are all relatively healthy and Shaun starts a new (non-gas station, hopefully not only overnights; not that there's anything wrong with either of those things...) job on Monday. My summer class is the kind teachers dream of: 13 very diverse students, each one committed to learning and engaged in the work we're doing together. V is loving every second of summer and even Seven seems to be having a good time. It just is.

I'll work on untangling myself, and keep taking V swimming (above, at Great Aunt Linda and Great Uncle Ken's hotel in Fargo this week), and keep thinking about blogging. May your own mean reds stay far away, or come take mine on a vacation of some sort.

Ten years

Jess played "You are My Sunshine" on her guitar as my parents and I walked up the driveway into our backyard. Beth and Steve read for us, and Pastor Tim performed the ceremony. Afterwards, we all went out to  dinner to Timberlodge Steakhouse, and Shaun and I stayed in a Honeymoon Suite at Expressway Inn that I'd won at the wedding expo in January.  It was a fantastic day.

We all look like babies to me, now.

 Ten years ago today. It really doesn't seem like it's been a decade at all.

Then again, it feels like we've always been together. In a good way, I mean. I can't really remember life before. 

So much has changed for us, and our families. And marriage is hard, hard work sometimes. But this photo here, my favorite of them all, is still who we are.  Two dorks who really love each other very much. He is my sunshine, indeed.

For more photos and nostalgia, see here, or here. Or come on over and look at our photo albums.

Pretty is as pretty does

Even if I think something's not very pretty, I try to take a close-up of it anyway, especially if it's a bug. There is beauty in texture and seeing something familiar in a new way, no matter what. I tend to find Dragonflies infinitely beautiful, but this one was gigantic and sort of sluggish and overly fond of our trash can (above). I love the lace of the wing, and the focus point in this photo, though, and if I'd gone with my instinct (ew), I never would have taken this photo.

 

I have thoroughly photographed Army worms (see here, and also here), and they still make me feel kind of ooky, but I find them to be dreamy photo subjects. Look at those long hairs! And the electric blue coloring! So pretty. 

I am constantly stopping myself when I say "yuck" or "ew" in my head and making myself fish out my camera. It's a good exercise in appreciation. 

Summer excitement

Oh, bloggie. I know I've been away so long. V was done with school on May 31, and since then we've had so, so, so much quality time together. Like, so much. On Wednesday, my mom took V to Hendrum for a few hours and I almost ran away to be a Vegas showgirl. I had forgotten what it was like to not have a six-year-old with me every. single. moment.

I think about blogging every day, though! So you'd think I'd have some great ideas lined up for you! But you'd be wrong about that too!

Instead, just some photos from Friday's swimming excursion with the girl, the niece, and the nephew. And the grandma. And the dog.

Unplanned, all three kids brought the towels our friend Kathy made for them. Aren't they pretty, all lined up? Each with their name. I love them.

 V, having completed her first round of swimming lessons on Thursday, offered to teach her cousins how to swim.

 They looked on in appropriate awe.

 Seven got off leash at one point, and V and I followed him for 8 blocks before we caught him. So he was the same.

Trying to get a Christmas card photo is hard with a Grandma and three kids, because at least one of them is almost guaranteed to be crabby. But we had fun trying!

Lessons at 39.

I've learned two important things this week.

1. Do not take the dog along for a car wash.

 2. Even if it's only 59 degrees out, and you need to wear a sweatshirt to be comfortable,

let the girl run through the sprinkler if she wants to. She'll stop if she's cold, and she'll probably have a really, really lovely time.

Name that flower!

I took pictures of some wildflowers this weekend, but I only know the name of one of them.  Why don't you show off your vast plant knowledge and educate me?

I think they're all pretty awesome, whatever they're called. As I came up out of the ditch, a woman walked by and said "You know, that ditch is full of poison ivy." Thanks for the (too late) heads up, lady. Still, I must've avoided those nasty leaves of three, because nothing itches today. And the ditch is clearly not FULL of poison ivy, because if it were, there would be no room for those pretty flowers.

First swim

The new yellow swimsuit, in action yesterday at Lake Belle Taine. It was windy and cool but she was sure she'd have fun. 

 She was right. 

 It was lovely weather for ducks, too. 

Seven looked on with concern. 

About ten minutes after she got out of the lake, the thunderstorms began, and stayed the rest of the weekend. I hope it wasn't because we offended Mother Nature by swimming before Memorial Day.

Wildlife photography

As a little girl, I was never squeamish around bugs. I rather liked them, actually. Potato bugs, though, were one of the banes of our existence, and the half-acre of potatoes my mother regularly planted were at risk, always, from these varmints. Our parents would pay us 1/2 a penny per bug, during peak season. 

 Perhaps because I had a hand in killing thousands of his brethren, this little feller showed up on my windshield one day last week. Instead of gathering him into a tobacco can with 1/2 an inch of gasoline, as was our wont, I just took his picture, and then drove him away from our yard, where he blew off somewhere near the fire station up the street. He's kind of pretty, though, when he's not decimating our winter's food source.

 In not really related news, this little inchworm found her way unto my shirt this afternoon. I know that inchworms can cause massive devastation to plants and trees, but I have no charming childhood story of massacre for this one. I just thought the baby inchworm was cute.

I took her outside for better light, got some extreme close ups of my thumb, and set her free. I hope she's not in cahoots with the potato bug family. I'll be so disappointed.