Henry received the sacrament of reconciliation this weekend. Here he is exiting the confessional.
Our friends, the Kvistads, invited us over for dinner this evening. Earlier in the day we had mentioned in passing that tomorrow is Henry’s birthday. Just a few hours later, after we’d finished a delicious dinner, they surprised us with a homemade cake for Henry. This was so incredibly sweet, and reminds us – yet again – that we live in an amazing community, surrounded by wonderful people. Thank you Brian, Jennell, Freda and Sam. What a great pre-birthay present for Henry.
P. S. The cake was so good.
Henry is participating in his first science fair this week. He’s been hard at work testing his hypothesis related to the strength of different types of windmill rotor blades. This weekend, around the breakfast table, we brainstormed what to call his project. The winning title was “Ranking Rotors.” Before taking the data to school, Henry gave a short presentation on his findings.
As a result of this experience, Henry says he wants to be an engineer when he grows up. Thank you, Mr. B. Thank you, Lopez School. And, thank you, Kristine, who was Henry’s engineering coach throughout this project.
That’s an expression I learned from my father-in-law, Jim – basically meaning “pick your battles.” Well, I’m not sure I want to die in it, but I dug a ditch at Fry Lodge Mud Bay today, with help from the kids. Ruby was especially interested in the project, the intent of which was to drain the water that had been standing in our driveway all winter. After some shoveling and hauling quite a bit of dirt and mud, the water did indeed start flowing from the muddy driveway out to the wetlands. As Ruby and I watched the little stream, I gave her the hydrologic explanation of what we were doing – comparing it to how water flows from mountains to the sea through rivers. Like one would to a six-year-old. Ruby listened attentively until I finished, and said, “yeah, you’re talking about surface water flow.”
When I was a kid, I spent a lot of time with our family’s wheelbarrow. My most poignant wheelbarrow memory is of hauling firewood from our barn down a hill in the backyard so it could be stacked under our deck. I’d usually go too fast down that hill. One time I lost control of the wheelbarrow, and it went careening down the hill – heading straight toward the sliding glass door under the deck, which it hit. To my amazement, it bounced right off; and I was spared from breaking that piece of glass. I was reminded of that childhood memory as I bought a new wheelbarrow this weekend for Fry Lodge. Henry took it for a spin today. I’m glad we don’t have a hill in our yard.
In other news, Ruby had fun with her smoothie today.