A group email updating some information about upcoming events from a boss ended with: "I trust you are all resting nicely." I read it huddled in the car with a sleeping toddler as Corrie was checking into our night's stop that evening in Grants, a tiny mountain town in central New Mexico. It was after midnight and a blistering wind made the 34 degree night painfully frigid, at least for us beach denizens. We were on our way back to California.
"...resting nicely." I nodded to the email as it rested on the steering wheel.
I have a series of posts about Cassius's first trip to the Harrison Farm in Clarendon, TX, an hour south-east of Amarillo in the panhandle region of that enormous state.
It was magical. There was tractor riding, hornet battles, coyote howls in the darkness, and some pistol shooting. We got to the Petrified Forrest and later, Flagstaff. Cass even had a nice dinner with his Great Grandma Lorraine before we left Arizona for points east.
It was a great time, and one that will look better as time goes on and we begin to forget that we strapped our toddler into a car-seat for almost 40 hours, a full-time job's week worth of work.
But first I have at least one other post I have to get to before the Farm posts get going.
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