A deer in the woods.

I've meant to detail our trip north this summer, and I'm obviously failing on that count. I don't think I've sorted out the trip in my mind yet. It was good, parts were difficult, a lot like life only we were on vacation (and one sometimes expects vacation to be less like life). So, while I let the trip rattle around my cranium, I will work to upload the remaining pictures (you've seen some of South Carolina in the sidebar, which truly lived up to the term vacation, so much so that Julia tells us regularly that she would like to live in South Carolina, in cabin 5 specifically).

Here is one image near and dear to me: the girls and me in the woods behind the house where I was raised.



We're standing on the remnants of the trail I took every morning, just in time, to catch the school bus. At this particular spot I once startled a young female deer. I was late, running full speed with my head down. I raised my eyes and saw her. I skittered to a stop only steps from where she stood, our eyes met, and we each ran screaming in the opposite direction. I don't recall whether I made the bus that morning. I do recall panting as I hit the door to the house and yelling at my mother, "I almost ran into a deer on the trail." My children are more likely to run into feral cats than deer here in Macon.

There are many more pictures (and stories) to share. I will get to them soon.

PS. For all of you worried by my last post, we're okay. I don't want to write much more because I need to have boundaries about what I share about my kids.