Of Gourds and Grandparents

If I wanted to recap our Kansas trip in a linear fashion or even one that made any sense at all, I'd tell you about how we spent three consecutive nights in three different houses, and I would start with the first night, then second, and so on.

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.

Grandma once again came through in loading all the empty spaces of our car with gourds and crackers and sweet potato vine and pizza, among other equally random things.  When I went to display this bounty to Derek back in Iowa, I was quick to add, "Keep in mind that she tried to send me home with live ducklings."  Which she did.

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.