Best Independence Day ever. Well, speaking personally.
The boys have started calling Mr. Moon "Boppa" instead of "Boppy". Should I change his name here as well?
Life is change.
Here are Boppa and Gibson.
Here are Boppa and Owen.
Owen was eating a peanut butter sandwich. They were looking at pictures from the trail camera at Mr. Moon's hunting property. Does and bucks and I have no idea what. But Owen crawled up in his lap and wanted to see the pictures. He tried out the snorkel and mask today in the little pool and completely figured it out and spent approximately four hours underwater.
After the boys left with their daddy, Mr. Moon and I took a drive in the Cutlass convertible out into the country, down the beautiful canopy roads and the light was magical and we passed so many little 4th of July celebrations in the yards of block houses and meat was grilling and the air smelled of that and of cut grass and of the deep exhalations of the North Florida earth on a remarkably cool day for July.
The Cutlass growled and roared and ate up the road and the light shone the world into magic.
Boppa driving the Cutlass with the top down.
And we have venison backstraps in the oven cooking with bacon and barbecue sauce and sweet potatoes and apples. I'm going to make a salad with spinach and lettuce and strawberries and blueberries and pecans.
Watermelon was eaten. Seeds were spit.
All is well.
May it be so with you as well.