|The Driveway to Scarlet's Run|
|The Scarlet's Run Homestead|
|John, The Barista|
|Preparing for the Bonfire|
|Lillie and Mollie|
|Halie Dancing with her Grandpa|
|Mikey, Down at the Creek|
|Mom and Ray|
|Rachel, Jack, John, Mikey, Page, and Joey|
|NorCal granddaughter and Martie|
|John, Jack and Rachel|
|What My Mama Started|
The Children and Grandies
|Princessify the puppy.|
|Find the frog-s in the dining room jungle|
It was a normal Thanksgiving, if there is such a thing.
Nobody had to get stitches. No one called the cops, but I feel sure that is because we are out here in the wilderness. There was a very loud encounter with a frog that has been living in the jungle in my dining room. I didn’t mind him, but then I wasn’t sleeping on a blow-up mattress on the floor.
We didn’t set the house on fire. We came close when someone put a towel on the stove and someone else turned the burner on underneath it, but thanks to my cat-like reflexes, there was no need to call the Whitmore Volunteer Department.
No one actually counted but we estimated almost fifty relatives came out to share the beauty of Scarlet’s Run. (Rob and Jen’s spot “next door” to us.) We had live music, delicious food, good wine, happy people, singing and dancing, and two of the cutest little tots to cuddle.
Every now and then someone would call out over the happy noise, and tell of something for which he or she was exceedingly grateful.
I believe well over two hundred photographs were taken. You can view some of them on my blog if you wish. (Blog address below.)
As night began to tiptoe in, we moved the party to a roaring bonfire. We sat around it on bales of hay and chairs for the elders. The guitars were tuned up and we all enjoyed some superb singing. There are people in this great extended family who rival anyone on The Voice, and that’s a fact.
When it got late, we split up between the two houses, and two camper trailers, and made beds on sofas and blew up mattresses for the floor space. The lights went off and people began to settle in for some sleep.
That was when the frog jumped on my brother’s hand.
Now, I had told them about my frog named Prince, who was a very loud croaker and could also throw his voice. Yes. It was a ventriloquist frog. I liked it that he was in my dining room jungle, but worried that he might get lonely or hungry. My clown ninja tried to catch him once but he jumped causing Ninja Boy to jump and Prince got away. Now that he had hopped on my brother, the lights came back on and the hunt was on.
Oh the screaming and squealing! How could a little frog the size of a half-dollar coin, cause such an uproar!
When the frog was safely outside, and three generations of family were pumped full of adrenalin, there came a very loud “Ribbit!” from the plants.
Another one? So that’s how it threw its voice. Now they began to look for the second frog, quietly scanning each leaf visually. Brother-Boy grabbed my sister and granddaughter from behind and yelled, “Ribbit!” Oh the blood curdling screams! If we had close neighbors, the sheriff would have been here forty-five minutes later to take a report.
More than likely we would have still been squealing. We weren’t able to free frog number two until the next day.
|Work a puzzle with several family members|
|Go shopping on *Shop Local Saturday*|
|Perform Scientific Experiments Involving|
Ivory Soap and a Microwave
|Have Coffee on the Deck|
|The Final Mess|
|And Now It Is Time To Put The Orange Stuff Away|
And Get Out The Red and Green Stuff