Happiness Is

It's Friday, which means two days happiness.


My husband, the guy on the left, made this playset (and the shed) for our guy. We still need a slide and various other rope devices. The sandbox is on the deck. We love it.


Now that there is heat, there are also water fights with big sister A.



After a water fight, there is a hose shower.


And if it rains on Saturday, there is always rubber boots and umbrellas and no pants.


E received this old Tonka jeep (complete with spare tire and a gas tank) at someone's garage sale.


My garden is the best in the spring. I have no idea what these pretty flowers are. I have no idea why this sentence is hyperlinked.


After five years of growing, our apple tree finally has blossoms. Hee, hee. I just realized I flipped this picture the wrong way. Notice the tree in the background.


Lilacs are my favourite. My husband cut these for me to put in my car on the drive to my parents'.


My guy is getting a hang of his balance bike.



Helping Daddy wash his Harley.


Riding a skateboard.


'Sleeping' on the wagon with my niece.

I hope you have a weekend filed with happiness.

Nighttime Ride

Last night my husband and I went for a quick motorcycle ride after the baby was asleep.

For the record, his 19-year-old sister was at home listening for any sound from his bedroom.

I really haven’t been on the Harley since the summer before I was pregnant. My husband tells me he thinks of that summer often.

We went out almost every weekend and did several great trips. He figures my motorcycle riding days are done.

They aren’t done, they are postponed until after the boy decides hanging out with friends is more important than mom and dad or when mom and dad can leave the boy to hang out by himself for a couple of hours.

Or when mom is able to leave baby in the capable hands of the Nana and Papa or for the weekend. Sadly, for Nana and Papa at least, I am not there yet.

Motorcycle Memories

People either love or hate motorcycles; there are often no shades of grey.

My aunt, a nurse, calls them organ donators, as she has experienced, first hand, the dangers of riding, and falling off of, the vehicle.

Perhaps I love motorcycles because my dad had one while I was growing up. I loved getting on the back of his Honda and feeling the wind rush by me.

My husband has a Harley, and yesterday was my first ride in more than a year.
I find being on the back of a motorcycle quite freeing and relaxing. While you can hold conversations (but at louder volumes), you spend a lot of time just thinking and looking around.

The sense of smell comes alive on the back of a bike - wood, freshly cut, dirt recently plowed by a farmer and lilacs by the dozens.

When it was just the two of us, we would jump on the bike and go. We saw a lot of the countryside around us on the back of the motorcycle and had some great road trips.

While my jump-on-the-bike-and-go days are now gone, the love of bikes is still there waiting for the day in the far future when we can go again.