The Boy Is Filth

Aesop's Clean Bill Versus Yuula's Dirty Knees

 

I don't know what's going on here. 

The Greyest Family

Hey look! We're gross and wearing grey. Let's let Yuula take photos.

Pose!

Sir Dirsty Muckenmouth

dirt is his third favorite food

Swinging Back Into The Thing Of Spring

Another morning of yardwork ahead, but I need help stretching.

This year we have to new things to worry about, like Yuula scaling rocks.

Planting the first flower of the season

We had a little visitor in the middle of the day that broke things up, little Bella from dance class. They enjoyed putting dirt in each others hair and just being filthy in general. 

That is not the serving plate. That is Laura's plate.

and yes we got ice cream again. So what of it?

Monumental On Mother's Day

It's become a sort of tradition (for a whole year now) that we plant flowers on Mother's Day, alongside most of the nation I'm sure. My parents came up to spoil the child and to mooch free liquor. But they also helped out around the yard in what has proven to be a set of enormous tasks we set forth for this summer, once again.

it started with eggs

flowers emerged from every corner

Yuula mowed the lawn

for a small fee you could take wheelbarrow rides

there were even kittens to add adorability

See

we got bloody and dirty

I managed a 5 minute hammock nap

then celebrate with quesadillas on the grill, margaritas & cob corn

and RHUBARB!

One Day Like This A Year Will See Me Right

Father's Day is better than birthdays. Birthdays just make you feel old and then you eat too much cake. Father's Day means that we watch Return of the Jedi instead of Housewives of NJ (even tho since I'm now on the computer the TV has mysteriously returned to terrible Italians). Father's Day means I get a back rub tonight. I think. I kinda need one.

I'll tell the day with photos...


gifts in black & white


pancakes of blueberry


a barn at sunset


a chair in the garden


a baby, a lady & a dog


a garden on wheels


foxglove and dogcoat


evening primrose


Yuula's first ice cream cone


she is an Estler


her best Colonel Sanders impression


sunshone child


a splash of color


a work in progress


a blank canvas


I don't feel like I've accomplished anything if at the end of the day my white v-neck hasn't turned to brown.

Happy Father's Day dads. Can't wait for next year.

Dirt To The Bones

I never got the chance yesterday to throw up some words about our finally being able to get our hands on some dirt. And get some dirt on our hands. And some dirt on our legs. And face. And in all the spaces in between.



That is some tough work. My elbows and thumb muscles are sore as hell. I've never experienced this kind of pain before. Feels good.



Good news is we filled the boxes and still have topsoil and manure to burn on more flower beds. Bonus. Now we just gotta figure out how to make things grow. 'Will' and 'should' are separate concepts.

Danger Napping With Dirty Hands

I made a mistake today.

I had a lot of yardwork to do. The unfun stuff. Raking. It seems the more I rake the more there is to rake. But on the way home I stopped by the home depot to buy me a new hammock. We have one but it's kinda icky. A hammICK. Ha! I hung it up right when I got home. And twisted the screws into the trees. I measured the lengths of chain and I hung with care. So how do you test a hammock, just to make sure it's right?



It wasn't a long nap. Only moments. I miss my afternoon naps. Haven't had one in awhile. But I had a rake waiting.

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This job is panning out. Transitioning away from the inventorial and into the solo excursions. I hit the road on my own today, much to my own surprise. Trusting folk. And I wasn't nervous at all. I was pretty awesome if I do say so myself, having never driven a rig before. I don't know if what I got is technically a rig, but I'm calling it one. I'm a rigger.



But man is this world of backwoods plants a dark and devious one. I've already met some shady shady characters and it makes me smile. I was in a place today that powder coats and it must've been 150 degrees in there and the dudes looked like skeletons. Closest to hell I've ever been. I don't know how they do it. And I don't know how I get so dirty. I bought a brand new pair of jeans on Tuesday and they're already filthy. Like proper filthy. I look like Daniel Plainview.



This is after I washed my hands.