Confabulations with the Relations
Anyway, my mom, grandma Poet, and aunt Jodi all came for a quick visit on their way to Prince Edward Island/Anne of Green Gables land (Where's Gilbert?). We had some very serious and some very not so serious moments of confabulation. I wonder if conblabulate would be a more accurate word for conversing informally. I wish English gave genders to its nouns because I bet a conblabulation would be feminine. I'm confabulating way too much in this blog, blah, blah, blah, "yes doctor, I am listening and I do want to confabu...ha ha ha ha ha!"
My blooming delphinium and my little digger. I think I could put him to use in my garden. I just need to redirect his lofty interest in beheading my favorite flowers and lower it to a subterranean level where weeds grow and snails preside.
Reed loves to play in the dirt and puddles, but what boy doesn't? That explains my loosing battle in the laundry room, not to mention those creepy house centipedes, uuhhhgggg...(shiver). Word of Wisdom: Never go into a basement barefooted. It makes as much sense as to "never go in against a Sicilian when death is on the line. Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!" (Princess Bride)
Aunt Jodi with Douglas at Hawk Island Park
Jodi, Grandma Poet, and Mom (aka Grandma Hartvigsen)
Isaac looking for more rocks. I have the feeling most of them are at the bottom of this lake.