Instead I want to talk about gourds.
Our final night in the state of sunflowers was spent at the home of my grandparents. I've talked about them of the heavenly gardens in the past; this trip their flowers and all things growing were just as divine, and just as bountiful.
|Grandparents' bounty now in Iowa.|
I need to have her offer living, breathing animals every visit, now, because I think I could get away with wheel barrows full of plants and rusting metal as long as I preface it with, "Hey- I said 'No' to ALL the things with lungs."
I likewise did not come home with the preserved barn owl we found in a box in a shed while gourd-hunting. Self control, thy name is Kristy!
While there I told my grandma that I'd felt like the kids and I were this massive tidal wave of energy that had just swept across southern Kansas, leaving exhausted family members in our wake.
Grandma laughed and said, "No, no, no," but Grandpa said it was "a good invasion."
And invade we did.
Atticus invading Grandma's chair- while Grandma was still in it:
Caedmon invading the gazebo with Grandpa:
Adelaide invading the smoke tree:
See her back there?
It helped that after years of herding a multitude of children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren, Grandma has a black belt in redirecting excess juvenile energy, as evidenced here, where you see Atticus and Adelaide shelling peas from the garden and liking it.
I told you she's good.
I almost had to drag the three kids (okay- all four of us) away to return home to the north. Atticus in particular was loathe to leave ("But it will be a hundred years before we get to come back!"), so I handed out promises that we'd try and return sometime in the next few months.
Fall sounds like a perfect time for a good invasion.