Wheelbarrows and mustaches

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.


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