Sunday afternoon — just enough time after the shooters were done shooting to do a little drive time with Megs and Geneva. Naturally, we had to take pictures of our neighbor lady’s goats as we passed by her property, and then of course the calves-o-plenty that were gathered around the water hole. Then we went as far as the windmill corral, where Megan insisted that she wanted to climb to the top of the windmill for an epic photo-op. I told her, “Megan. You can barely walk. You will not be able to climb up that windmill.” She said, “Oh mom, you’re so silly, of course I can climb it!” You can see for yourself how far Peg Leg made it up that ladder… Sigh. When will they learn, Mother is always right?
Upon our return, our dinner guests were already arriving as we turned our corner to go down the hill. Gene and Amy came over from across the valley with some fabulous baked beans, and Ron and Sherry from a half-mile south came over with some absolutely lip-smacking, toothsome-smelling, tender-crispy smoked chicken and fresh homemade potato salad and another kind of baked beans. We were so blessed with their company and fellowship, and had gales of laughter along with more than enough food for the lot of us.
After he consumed an extreme amount of smoked chicken (and nothing else), Jacob needed to work off his supper. He brought his Dad’s ax down from the cabin and tried splitting some of the fire wood. The Boy quickly learned that chopping is a monster load of fun, and just couldn’t stop! He chopped and chopped. Our guests left, it was getting dark, and Paul and I walked down to the gate to close up for the night, and he was still chopping. He asked how much he should chop, and Paul said just chop till you get blisters. So he did! Lol!
