(As I’ve been a little distracted with the saga of the bluebird babies, please allow me to return to regular programming while I finish 30 Days of Grace III. Regular bird reports will continue, that’s a promise.)
What a joy it is to be here together, brothers and sisters, aunts and uncles, daughters and cousins and friends. There is history, and lots of it—stories we’ve heard (and told) a thousand times, tales that weave in and out like a leisurely drive on an old country road. These are the threads that connect us all, one to the other, family to family, year to year to year.
We’ve come to the mountains for a little family vacation, one of the traditions I love most about this Monetti clan I married into. I knew carrying on with my 30 Days of Fun would be a breeze—with Anthony and Joey around, it’s always fun.
We started our week with a little hike around the lake. Eliza came, too, and I was happy. (It seems I am desperate to soak up every bit of her before she heads back down the mountain to Clemson.)
We set out together.
Everywhere we looked, there was something interesting to see and discuss.
Wildflowers—sweet little surprises the boys spotted in the woods.
I found my favorite hideaway. Joey and I decided we’d come back here later, to sit and read and look.
I was sure we’d find a feather, sooner or later. Guess what?
It was the perfect way to start the week, filled with wonder and excitement and adventure.