Saturday, September 26, 2015

Friday, September 25, 2015

Thursday, September 24, 2015

A Time to Talk

By Robert Frost

When a friend calls to me from the road
And slows his horse to a meaning walk,
I don't stand still and look around
On all the hills I haven't hoed,
And shout from where I am, What is it?
No, not as there is a time to talk.
I thrust my hoe in the mellow ground,
Blade-end up and five feet tall,
And plod: I go up to the stone wall
For a friendly visit.

Wednesday, September 23, 2015

3rd Time

I think this was the first time where Margaret didn't ever ask to be picked up or cry. I call that a huge success!

Tuesday, September 22, 2015

Monday, September 21, 2015

Sunday, September 20, 2015