Busy Times . . .

Oh my goodness, time has flown . . . And trickled slowly, but mostly flow . . .

I have been up to my ears in building cement counter tops . . .

 Messy stuff when you don't quite know what you're doing . . .

 I'll be done soon and then maybe I'll have a bit more time to dilly-dally in the world of blogs . . .

                                                                                             ~Marica

Pictures Past . . .

I found this charming picture from several years back. We still lived in the canyon then and this was a bench that ran between the yurt and RV that made our home . . .

Little boys grow so fast. So do girls.

                                                    Best wishes and happy weekend ~ Marica

Orange might be the color of Easter . . .

Coloring eggs on the actual day of Easter this year, in fact, turned out quite nicely . . . 

And orange was the color of the calendal pedals covering our cake . . . 

We had an egg-hunt in our yard . . . 

And orange was the color of the candied carrots that made it taste so good . . . 

We had a scrumptious feast . . . And my oh my, I was so full !!!! 

And orange was the color of the light from the afternoon sun making the kitchen glow. . .

                                       Did you have a lovely Easter?

                                                                  ~ Marica

It takes a lot of work to wash your dish when your five . . .

It takes a lot of work to wash your dish when your five.

We have an everybody-wash-your-own-dish-in-our-house agreement.

 Not that everyone really agrees, but the adults surely do.

Last night while reminding my five-year-old he must stop everything he is doing and 

come back out to wash his plate, I stopped and watched for a moment what this entailed. 

We used our ceramic dishes for dinner and it took everything he had to get it down from atop 

our tall bar where we sat. A two step process . . . Getting it down to the stool, climbing his

 own body down, then moving the dish to the kitchen sink.

 This is where I traded him. I offered for him to wash a wooden cutting board 

while I washed the dish ~ Hoping to save its weary life from a fatal crash to the floor . . . 

It then took scrubbing, more scrubbing and scouring.

 Water, more water, soap, soap again . . . 

You get the point . . . 

Not just a quick minute. I appreciate now, just a bit more, what it takes when your five 

and your mother calls "Come back and wash you dish . . . "

                                         Cheers ~ Marica