pretty things

For days now I've been putting off the park. Somehow, between working and ball practice and missed naps it's been hard to get my monkeys there to play. So last night, I promised.
I would pack a lunch and we'd go, first thing in the morning. We'd stay out all day. It would be fun.

Cass woke me up at 6:50 am. Yanking his shirt over his head, he was all set to leave......

Not quite the first thing in the morning I'd planned. I settled him with cereal and went to hunt down the coffee, yawning hugely.

And of course, by the time R was up and dressed and ready to go and I'd glanced outside (the uncaffeinated fug lifting with every life-giving sip) it was graying over, and promising to rain.

The first giant splats hit the windshield on the way into town. Cass groaned.

So! Regrouping time. We went to the library, then thought we'd have a walk through one of the pocket wildernesses 'round here. That was canceled when it began to thunder. Now, I don't mind my two getting wet. Dampish never hurt anyone. But being out among the giant pines with the accompanying storm sound effects rumbling around our heads? Nuh-uh.

I pulled a leaf from my Canadian pocketbook and did what most other people in town waiting out the rain did - we went and got coffee.

And then the rain began to slow. So we went to the playground after all.

I love this playground. We come here quite a bit, and have for some time. In that time, we've seen two re-vamps of the playground equipment,
although they've left the benches.They're a bit mucky-looking but very comfortable.And they're right next to the old roses.

So while your son plays with the diggers and the jungle gym and your daughter alternates between the swings

and jumping on the rocks near the river,

you can sit and sniff up great draughts of fresh air and blowsy roses

and look at pretty things.