…and the rest is history

T has been three hours away with his parents since Wednesday, and when he came home this afternoon I was relieved that he got home safe and happy to finally get a big-person hug.  He’s tired, as one would be after spending that amount of time with elderly parents who argue about everything, including who should eat first. 

“You eat first.”

“No, you eat!”

“I’m not going to eat until you eat!”

“No, eat.  Don’t make me angry.”

And on and on.  Maybe they could try eating all at the same time.

Anyway, even though he’s tired, he played with J and after J went to bed, he helped me out by tilling the garden one last time.  I’m not much of a weeder, and I don’t leave enough room between my rows, ever, so it’s never an easy task.  T’s a Godsend, though, and didn’t even complain about it.

We haven’t had much out of the garden this year since everything is sooo late, but I’ve got my eye on those peas.  Every day I’ll take the thickest pod, crack it open and scoop out the insides.  The peas are never big enough, but soon.  I love the taste of those peas…they’re sweet and a little crunchy and just so fresh.  Mmm. And they’re pretty!