I’m most impressed by the ability of things doing only what they know to do, but in entirely the wrong place. I’ve felt like that myself over the past year.
The kids are having piles of toast for dinner. It’s something we do from time to time, especially during winter months, when we are entirely too tired of full meals. In summer it might be slices of watermelon or cantaloupe piled high, but in winter it’s toast. It suits me well because I’m able to get caught up on reading or writing while they can manage the cooking and clean up all by themselves. Big pats of butter and enormous spoonfuls of jam make it the perfect evening in their eyes.
There was some awful serious adventuring happening at the fallen tree. I pity the person who invades the Howell someplace. Unless you’re hungry, of course. Under those circumstances we’ll feed you chicken soup and send you on your way. Oh the joys of homeschooling kids on a civil war farm. It allows us to let our imaginations run away from us from time to time.
Speaking of fallen trees. It’s amazing that we don’t have an entire woods of them after the winds that came through last night. The sound of it all, that went on for hours, was so loud that we had to come downstairs and sleep in the living room. Surprisingly, all the tunnels were still standing and with no harm that we can tell. Makes us even more hopeful that we’ll be able to keep on growing without much trouble this winter. I think that the other people’s surprise that we are able to grow year round always keeps seeds of doubt in the back of our minds. Each successful transition through harsh weather conditions offers us a bit more promise.
