If you look closely into this prairie grass, you will see one of the most peaceful scenes, and best shot, of our weekend.
This herd of deer ran in front of our car, just at twilight, at the sweet end of our three-hour journey, just as we were about to turn into our drive at the lake house last Friday.
I use the word “sweet” here when referring to the end. The boys do not travel well and only seem to be getting worse with age. After listening to four different soloists sing Sargent Pepper, and chants of “He bit me,” we were at our wits end, and simply ready to chill out on the deck and do nothing but stare at the water. Of course, this did not happened. We unpacked, ate whatever we could scrounge up out of the cooler without actually cooking, dealt with more sibling squabbles and briefly glanced up to catch the lake, and our breath, in-between disasters.
My husband and I have fantasies about spending an entire weekend by ourselves at the lake…