Back to the mountains

Mom is getting ready to go to Africa, so we gathered some of the stuff they need in Zambia and drove up to the farm to deliver to her. Dinner was waiting when we got there, roast beef, mashed potatoes. butterscotch pie, yum.

On Saturday, while Mom and Diana went into town, I took the Mutt down into the meadow where the two creeks join. The grass is nearly four feet high there, with Queen Anne's lace and black-eyed Susan and thistles and such. It took a fair amount of effort to walk through it, and the Mutt went bounding through it as if it were deep snow. At the bend in the creek, where the rocks and trees hang over it and high water has left a tiny stone beach, I moved some rocks around to see what that did to the water flow. Zoe plunked herself down in midstream as casually as if she was laying on carpet and hadn't noticed the water. On the way back to the house, I gathered some slate stones to line our flowerbeds.

In the evening I talked with Mom a little, and engaged in chemical warfare on some wasps. The Olympics are on, so I watched a few minutes of TV--this probably doubled my total tube time for the year.

Sunday was church at First Baptist, lunch with Elizabeth, David and Jack (Julia having just flown to Barcelona), and then drive home.