Papa’s House

Henry loves going to “Papa’s House”. I don’t think there is a day that goes by he doesn’t talk about going to Papa’s house and throwing rocks in the pond or feeding the fish. Henry hides his Joe’s cup in the barn for collecting rocks on every return trip.

Talking with Grandma about school, the weather, and throwing out every vocabulary word he knows.


And when the cup runs dry, it’s time for round two…collecting and throwing rocks doesn’t stop until the sun goes down.
















Boys will be boys


And girls will be girls…had to throw in a few of my rose bush. I’m so proud. My neighbor and her dozens of bushes, each with two dozen blooms, puts me to shame. But I’m pointing the camera…and that’s why you can’t see her roses.




Wade and I (okay, just Wade) have been busy planting hostas and annual begonias in the front flower beds. Anything that will grow in the shade! I select the flowers, point to where I want them, and Wade digs the hole. Poor Wade…I know he’s ready for this pregnancy to be over. I’m usually good for planting about three flowers, then Wade takes over. I no longer bend at the waist. My bending over looks more like a head nod.