Work Wednesday—The Pond


Yes, we’re back to working on the pond. And when I say “we,” I mean my husband . . . He did have me come down to make sure the dock was straight in the water, ‘cause, well, I like things neat and orderly. He couldn’t care less.

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We did go to an auction this past weekend, and my husband picked up a metal detector. Good thing, because to date we’ve (I’ve) lost two throwing knives, an axe, and just this morning, an arrow, somewhere behind the shooting range.

The garden has a few late tomatoes still left, and maybe three pepper plants that will likely do absolutely nothing. And garlic, of course, that won’t be harvested for a couple months yet.

Clearing and plowing are up next, to finish expanding next year’s garden and put in the greenhouse for the winter. And we still have a few missed spots on the kitchen deck to pressure wash.

Assuming, of course, we can find and move all the cat toys that a friend bought this weekend for Arthur.

We finally finished the sliding doors—thank goodness our neighbor helped, those suckers were HEAVY—and got the rest of the deck furniture. Voila, another room!

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And, well, another bedroom for my friends who visit overnight who claim they are too “old” to use the campsite (this includes our kids, by the way):

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Oh, and big announcement:

We have considerably fewer spider webs all through the woods. You’re welcome. I’ve been wearing them for a week . . .

 

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Fan Friday—REPEAT, Chapter Two


Chapter Two

The kids ran around the meadow, chasing each other. Paul and Millie and Rosie and Zoe had plenty of friends now, but they still stuck together like glue. They were sitting quietly, whispering, when I snuck up behind them and started tickling Millie.

Little pistol. She whipped around grabbed my legs and sent me crashing to the ground. Damn, I felt that all over. The three amigos jumped up and took off and I just gave up, rolling onto my back and staring at the clouds.

Jules joined me.

“Emmy, can we talk?”

I sat up, brushing grass out of my hair. She sure sounded serious . . .

“You know David and I are heading out next week. Out west. He’s got this itch to take off again and wants me to come. Millie and Rosie are going to stay with Alison and Brad, and well . . . EJ wants to go with us.” Jules stared down at her lap for a moment, then dodged my eyes again, looking out across the meadow.

Huh. This was going to be interesting. And by interesting, I meant that Abby would throw a fit. She wanted that daughter of hers to be safe, and this was so not safe. Well, on the other hand, it might be . . . we’d really had no intelligence from that area in years. It could mean that no one was out there, or that things had settled down like they did here, or it could be a hot mess.

I thought about this for a minute, wondering exactly what to say. Jules beat me to it.

“She’s talking to Abby right now.”

Crap. Yeah, I could see something was going on. All the way over at the kitchen shelter. This was not the way I would have handled things, but EJ sure had a mind of her own. Once she got an idea, she put it into motion.

Kinda like her mother.