Although it has rained for eleven straight days at our house fireworks went off in the Friday night break, to the delight of all the children and grown-ups who crowded Barlow Field. Emily professed a little disappointment the show lasted only half an hour, but as it commenced raining on the way home apparently half an hour was perfect.
Fourth of July was a little awkward this year, falling on Thursday. But it rained much of the day, so no harm, no foul. Beth and I scheduled a picnic for Saturday, at Camp 61, and the word went out. My only responsibility was the head count, and I could report at least sixteen. Our house is little expanded from its two bedroom bungalow origins, except the deck and the studio, so all would be well if it rained on schedule, better if it didn't.
And it did not rain until the last guest departed. It was a deck party!
I had some checking up to do:
The twin cousins, Laura and Francis, born two weeks apart. They think "twin cousins" is stupid, but I'm the grandma, so turn around for your annual picture.
Caroline and Laura still fit in the same chair. Caroline just came from a swim meet; those are her events inked on the back of her hand. Rather clever.
Although one of the last two or three remaining viable branches came down from the elm tree in this current round of storms,
The watermelon hole remains. I do not recall how many years it has been that children have played Corn Hole with watermelon rinds aimed at the elm's knot hole. A long time. Uncle Tom has banned corn cobs from being used these days; the raccoons are simply too fond of corn cobs still reeking of butter. But deer make short work of watermelon rinds in the ravine, then leave.
On your mark,
Go, Go, Go.
Final score: Francis--one; Deer-a whole lot.