It was certainly impromptu; my blessed beautiful car had been parked behind Brother Beorn's house for more than six months, and I was beginning to fear that it would simply crumble into the earth if I didn't get it out of there and start driving it again. So, with a sudden lull in work, we decided to seize the moment and just head northward to retrieve it, laying aside plans for a more structured visit next month. What a beautiful time of year to visit the North Country! Fresh air, everything just as lush and verdant as the mind can imagine, the lovely farm smells, a massive pink sun sinking over wet pasture where cows graze, the rivers all swollen and happy.
Sister Lue and I (with help from Niece Lauren) saddled up my parents' two rideable horses and took a beautiful evening jaunt up the road where we used to ride when we were teenagers. Much has changed there, but it felt like a time warp to be riding along with my big sister -- especially when we passed the power line where the redwing blackbird used to scold and chase us. One of its descendants is still there, guarding the same spot. We rode into a meadow and let the horses run, and I can't describe how good it felt to be charging down the field with a horse beneath me. I need more of that in my life.
And peppermint still grows abundantly along the brook where we used to play as kids. I harvested three large bunches of it which are now drying in my kitchen, for tea.
Our visit happened to correspond with the annual Summerfest of the town of Hopkinton, the subject of my father's recently published history book. He, Mom, Aunt Di and Chrissy were set up at the museum/historical society to sign copies of the book for sale.
He got to reconnect with Grandma Irene:
And see his cousin Lauren again.
Meeting Cousin Truman was interesting for him. When Truman's mom, Nichelle, held Stillman for the first time, Truman took it as the dirtiest sort of betrayal, and set about howling and screeching with indignation and hurt. This is a picture of him not howling and screeching with indignation and hurt, though.
Eventually an uneasy peace developed between the two cousins. (For the record, Truman seemed completely okay with the idea of his father, Jonathan, holding Stillman). By the end of the visit, Truman was even giving him hair (you touch your hair and then reach out and touch the head of the recipient, see).
Three generations of male Burnetts . . . .
Stillman got to meet lots of new relatives (The Blogger apologizes to those many who were not photographed. He was simply not on the ball.). But we did get shots of Aunt Nichelle . . . .
. . . and Dear Sweet Cousin Molly Bryn.
He got to reconnect with Grandma Irene:
And see his cousin Lauren again.
Meeting Cousin Truman was interesting for him. When Truman's mom, Nichelle, held Stillman for the first time, Truman took it as the dirtiest sort of betrayal, and set about howling and screeching with indignation and hurt. This is a picture of him not howling and screeching with indignation and hurt, though.
Eventually an uneasy peace developed between the two cousins. (For the record, Truman seemed completely okay with the idea of his father, Jonathan, holding Stillman). By the end of the visit, Truman was even giving him hair (you touch your hair and then reach out and touch the head of the recipient, see).
Three generations of male Burnetts . . . .
As for head-kicking, I've lost all ambition for it. Attentive reader Kenrya points out that the world record is a mere 77 blows, but if anyone is going to shatter that record, it won't be me. It will be my sister Chrissy, against whom it seems futile to even contemplate competing. How do you beat someone who doesn't even have to bend over to kick herself in the head? Check this out:
2 comments:
I LVOE the Chrissy sequence. Her skill is unparalleled (how many Ls in that?) and her form supreme. I've never seen them captured so beautifully!
truman looks so much bigger! he must be workin out. love kennedy
Post a Comment