Wagon days

We've put many miles on this old Radio Flyer over the last week.  I pull, Ole pushes, around and around the yard we go.
A neighbor clearing out old stuff gave us the rusty wagon.  I figured Ole was too young to ride in it unsecured, but when I sat him in it he grabbed the sides and gave me that look, "GO"!  It has already been countless hours of entertainment.

Flower power

As much as I gripe about the previous owners of our house, I sure appreciate the charming little notes and maps they've left for us.  This one charts out the various climbing vines they planted alongside the barn:

The flower pins were part of our wedding and remind me of that wonderful day.

Here's a couple photos of number 3 in bloom

And number 5

I'll let you know when the others bloom.  Apparently the Akebia has a wonderful fruit that tastes like custard.  I'm looking forward to that...yum!
This quotation must have spoken to the previous owners.  It is definitely a mantra I should strive to accept.

White River Falls

We headed down to Tygh Valley this past weekend.  It has been about nine months since our last visit when we harvested apples with our tiny baby in a sling.  The temperature soared to 100 degrees on Saturday, so after slashing our way through the cobwebs in the cabin and wedging the air conditioner in the window, we visited White River Falls to cool off.  The falls plunges 90' over a basalt shelf.

Normally we'd trek the down the short steep trail to the old hydroelectric plant and a calm bend in the river perfect for a soak, but we're riding with Mr. Porcelain Skin now, so we settled for a shady spot in the grass up top.  We looked a little longingly at the heads bobbing in the cool water far below.

The fourth

We enjoyed our annual 4th of July potluck with the neighbors.  If you asked Ole for highlights of the party, I believe he'd have two: the ball pit and Chad's delicious blueberry cobbler.

Ewwww, say what?

So long story short there's a placenta in my freezer.

One of the many gory details of giving birth at home is making decisions about things like placenta.  I won't go into detail here about the many things people do with it these days, but I chose to save it in the freezer with plans to bury it under a tree.
The placenta (is it making you uncomfortable that I keep saying it?) holds the striking image of a tree and is called the Tree of Life in many cultures.  It just seemed fitting.

Honeycrisp apple, may you live a long and healthy life in our orchard and someday bear nine pound fruit.

Comparisons

Mama  and Ole 

 at 10 months old

I pulled out my baby book this week to see how Ole stacks up against his old mum. 

Well, first of all, there's the hair!  At ten months I have an actual hairstyle requiring scissors.  Ole has a few wispy strands that just crest the tops of his ears.  I had two chins whereas he has only one.  And it's hard to tell here, but my eyes are blue versus his green.

I do see a resemblance, though.  Do you?

Crimson and clover

Yes, that's a goat I'm walking.  Our guy Milton has turned into quite the troublemaker lately.  In addition to getting his head caught in the fence every single day, he has started ducking out of his pasture pen after just a few minutes of grazing to rampage through the strawberries.  I've decided it is all just a desperate cry for attention, so I've started to lavish him with pets while his head is caught in the fence and he can't dodge away.  I also leash him up and walk him up and down the road in front of the house.  Someday I hope he will show promise to be a cart goat and pull our child around in a tiny chariot.  We'll see..

It's time to mow down the crimson clover and till it in to help build the soil.  It's just that it's so pretty, we can hardly bear to.

Ole is already trying to fill his father's shoes.