my "great" great-niece Lydia decorating a stepping stone
Hezbollah and Israel and the UN were coming to a ceasefire agreement. But we weren't paying any attention.
It was a perfect day, and more than 30 of us (my side of the family) were on the farm, loving each other, playing, making stepping stones, painting birdhouses, playing badmitten, volleyball, ping pong, croquet and foursquare. We were eating, singing, sitting on hay bales around the bonfire, playing a drum or a guitar. We were talking about our lives and watching little ones pick queen anne's lace, clover and timothy grass. We were riding Don's tractor. We were riding Lesley's bike "Betty."
We were sitting in the "atelier" feeling the residual life started by chickens 100 years ago.
We laughed until we cried. We cried until we laughed. We hugged and hugged.
Some of us slept and woke up and did it all over again.
Lydia (in Don's t-shirt) painting a birdhouse
Some of us took pictures. I only took a few, and the only ones I'm happy with are these two of Lydia, my nephew Paul's daughter. Forgive me, the rest of you, for not posting your photos here, but they are not worthy of you. Ginnie, maybe you will have a post of Farm Day soon. The rest of you, please visit there for an upcoming post of our wonderful day/s. (Ginnie, my sister, is our unofficial official family photographer. And she is SO good!)
There's a new post at Paris Deconstructed.
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