You should see us on Sundays. We transform into twinkly-eyed geriatric farts complete with snacks, a basket, and public radio; out for a leisurely country drive. Last week took us to Sauvie Island, a bucolic wildlife sanctuary 25 miles north of town where we met some cattle.
It's funny, how prior to living in Montana I would've called these guys cows but the West has taught me a bit of animal husbandry namely, that cow is a gender specific term. And this fellow was certainly not a girl, thus the proud moniker of steer: castrated male.
As we walked along the trail, these wee little frogs hopped into the nearby grasses to avoid being trampled beneath feet. How stinking cute.
This Sunday we headed to the beach. Yes, I said beach. As a native West coaster I've always referred to the combination of sand and ocean as such, but stood corrected upon moving to the other coast, where the term is apparently the shore. Right. At any rate our return to the beach reminded me of Eddy's days in Santa Cruz.*Cue Peaches & Herb* Here he is (unintentionally) doing his version of my favorite Grover lesson Near and Far.
I leave you with this.
Happy Sunday!
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