We went out with my dad to help him move his tree stand to a different tree which, he claimed, would have a much better vantage point for taking out hapless deer for our supper. Dad takes well to rural life.
My brother Timothy hates being photographed. So I photograph him frequently just to make him twitch.
It was a dramatic shift to drive from rural Virginia down to Myrtle Beach in South Carolina. From cows in fields to palm trees and beaches. We got there late, but went down to say hello to the ocean. I haven’t seen it from this side in a while.
I swear that thing looks like one of those Furby dolls. With one ear. Creepy.
We walked along the boardwalk and happened to arrive in time for fireworks. We got ice cream too. It was one of those perfect summer evenings.
When we were in the ice cream shop, I realized that the girl behind the counter had a very familiar accent. It almost sounded more familiar to me than all the American ones around me. She was from Ireland, about to head back. We shared our love for the heat and sunshine and commiserated her on her nearing return to the cold, gloomy land across the sea.
This week’s project is moving into my new townhouse. The house is a barely controlled chaos of boxes and half arranged rooms. I have been reunited with my furry menace of a bunny and purchased two very tiny, very hilarious hamsters. But more on that later.