One More Night,

of sleeping among the mountains.  And one more day of playing pool at the pool table,  and watching The Great British Baking Show on TV, and trike-riding on the trikes, and hiking and  mushroom-hunting in the woods.  There was also the one more day of reading, and strumming guitar or banjo (those who were [still are] adept).  I've got to show you one more day of the family vacation-- singing, and eating good food.

What with that baking show, and the singing, and the eating, it only makes sense we'd have a birthday cake at some point, does it not, Reader Dear?!

 

Oops, forgot to mention two other popular pastimes (when it happened to be raining outside):

Tussling!  

Let me assure you, Dear Reader, this inclination for playful fighting was restricted to a small subset (my small actors) for small amounts of time.

And, too, there was the playing of video games--once again, the small actors,  on small screens, small amounts of time!

Overall, we were toasting the good times, in spite of the rain!

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It was all Downhill

 

Downhill in a shrieking, streaking way, Dear Viewer!

At the vacation house in the mountains, my  Small Actor and Tiny Actor took advantage of the trikes and the sweeping lawn.   Whenever it wasn't raining, they were doing the downhill thing--yelling and fast riding and hair flying!  My HM (their Poppy) would give them a ride uphill, and then...as fast as they could get to the top, it would all be downhill again!

I do believe, Reader Dear, if the chances of bone breakage, or a headline proclaiming "Grandmother of Five Dies in Tricycle Accident" were not hovering in my imagination, I'd have hopped aboard a trike myself! 

......

Who's to Know

 what twist of fate will ultimately prompt me to post another blog tale.  It appears that a weekend spent with all of my diminutive actors and the Little Actress might provide the twist.  It was verging on two weeks ago that the HM and I hosted our offspring for a long weekend at a mountain house owned by an Amish man.  This owner is an acquaintance of the HM.  "I've got a house in the mountains," this chap told the HM, "that I rent out  to groups.  I've got only ONE weekend left that is still open for the taking." (My parenthesis: not exactly "taking"...as in, there's a reasonable charge.) 

The HM and I swooped in on the deal.  Ergo, our offspring all took COVID tests prior to traveling to this spot, came up with across-the-board negatives, then went to this mountain house for Indigenous Peoples' Day weekend.  

We had a marvelous time (speaking for myself only, Reader Dear, but surmising it was a mutual sentiment).  Considering this property is Amish-owned, you may suppose it lacked amenities.  You may be quite mistaken, Surmiser Dear! Even though the ample in-ground swimming pool was closed for the season, there was plenty to keep us occupied. 

First Son-in-Law, who truly knows mushrooms, led us all on an interesting Mushroom Expedition.  

Following which, he cooked some up with butter for our eating pleasure.

Just a note of caution, Viewer Dear: One should not go picking toadstools willy-nilly and consuming them.   Without the advice of a mushroom expert, one is liable to find oneself pushing up daisies/mushrooms of one's own! (Aarrgh, Dear Reader, no frowning at Yours Truly.  It wasn't I who made up that old euphemism!)

 

Instead: eat these, wild Shitakes, Blewits, and hmm, what was the name of that other one, the mother lode?!: