Kath at Redcurrent made me a winner! Once again, I love Kath! And I can’t wait to get the pants in the mail.

Ford ran his first 1k fun run at the Austin Rodeo Rumble. We trotted beside him past cotton candy machines, hot dog stands and hat vendors, in the noontime heat. But he was a winner, himself! It was the first time in two years when he agreed to wear shorts and a tshirt (he prefers long clothing).

Chas lounged in the chariot with a popsicle:

Sheep dog trials were underway in the arena afterwards. Their finesse blew me away, and made me wish I were so effective corralling my own kids. Focused and efficient, the Australian shepherds rested on the ground while the cattle fumbled over each other on their way through chutes. We’ll have an Aussie Shepherd next door in a few days; our neighbors are moving from Santa Cruz county, dog in tow. Will it dutifully keep everyone out of the road? Hope so.

We spent the better part of yesterday hung over, the kids climbing all over us in blinding sunlight while we lay in bed. Around 5pm, I rallied the kids (as if they needed any help) for a neighborhood detox run. It was difficult. Ford wanted to run every so often in one-minute sprints, then recline in the twinner. I plodded along, feeling full of sand and rather gummy. But it was well worth it, because dinner the night before at Polly’s, drinking wine while the kids orbited around us at warp speed, was uplifting, totally fun. In the meadow behind their home, I saw the first bats of the season, flitting about above fresh green grass in the twilight.

We took a spring walk this morning at Zilker Botanical Gardens. I helped Ford list all the new emergences: flowering quince, fragrant mountain laurel, new growth at the base of old inland sea oats, cypress trees leafing out in whispy tufts of soft lime green needles, ferns unfurling in dappled shade.

I called out to Ford, “Look Ford, there’s some spiderwort!”
and he walked up to investigate, but snorted back “That’s NOT spiderwort! That’s Purple Heart, mom!”
And I smiled and shook my head, amazed at what four year-olds spit back out at their parents, these days. He looked up at me in rebuttal, face scrunched up in the sunlight.

Some unabashed, desperate attempt of one tree to get laid–what kind if tree is this?!: