The drive was not horrible, an overcast sky and holiday/weekend roadway traffic.
We arrived at the farm before anyone else and his grandmother (my mother, of course) suggested that we go hunt for mushrooms. A small "forest" sits close to the house and so we picked up bags and headed out on a mushroom hunt. "I don't even know what they look like mom." Dylan said with not some small exasperation. "Ah-ha!" spying one, I reached down for the wrinkly morel. "Here!" and I held it in front of his face. "Ew, you eat those?"...."Oh my lord yes, battered and fried."....."Its beginning to rain mom" He said after awhile, after finding his fair share of mushrooms. "Where's the gate we came through?"..."Back over there", I pointed in the general direction before adding, "but there is a nice hole in the fence here", and so he crawled through the small space, after me, between barbed wire and sqare fencing wire.
Back at the house mom had arranged the cups with colors. The great-grand-kids began to arrive, along with other grandchildren (nieces and nephews).
Everyone colored eggs. Then Victoria and Dylan, the two highschool seniors, picked out their graduation quilts.
|Dylan with his quilt. Victoria behind him.|
|Mom and Macalah|
And Macalah shared certain insights with her great grandmother.
|Muffin, the old dog, sleeping?|