the park down the street

We hadn't ventured out to the park down the street from our house yet. One of the things we miss most about our old house is the park on Lake Waco that was just a mile from our house. The boys loved to go down there and "hike" through the trails between the trees and beside the creek, throw rocks in the lake, and play on the playground. It was such a nice thing to have so near to us. Hewitt is not the most beautiful piece of land in the world. Trees are sparse. The land has low, rolling hills, some farmland and cattle still, but otherwise it's pretty nondescript. So, we didn't have high expectations for the park down the street from our house.

But we were wrong. I took the boys on Sunday afternoon to play there, not really that enthused about it. I just thought they needed to get out for a little sunshine. The playground looks like something preserved from my childhood. All of the equipment is metal (can't imagine it will be fun in August). But metal is darn sturdy and everything was in great working order. There were some beautiful, wide expanses of green space where we can go fly a kite on windy days and play soccer and just lay out a picnic blanket and enjoy the sun. Here are some pics I took of the boys enjoying the "old fashioned" equipment.

I'm not sure my kids have ever even had the opportunity to enjoy a merry-go-round very often. These things are almost non-existent. But they did get a kick out of it.

Ben loved the little merry-go-round and would crack up as he slid off. He said, "it's like I'm on a giant slingshot, Mommy!" Learning physics, right there in the park.

Will and Ben had a "shoot out" with finger guns, Ben at the top of the slide, Will at the top of the jungle gym. No one was injured, thankfully.

And this, my friends, is life in Hewitt...at the edge of the park, a field of wheat.

But the best part of the park story still remains. As we started exploring the park, I noticed these large signs at the edge of the play area (opposite the wheat field) stating, "No swimming. No life guard on duty." I was completely intrigued. I can see nothing but trees and brush. But I can't get the boys away from the metal playscapes to check it out. So, eventually, I am able to pry them off of the jungle gyms and tell them about the signs. We go to explore it. And there's a nice sized creek down there behind the trees and brush. It's probably 10 to 12 feet wide, pretty deep, and full of character. So, we wander alongside it until we can find an opening in the vegetation so that we can really get a good look. Eventually, we make our way around to a limestone ridge, covered in chalk rocks, with open shots for throwing rocks. And then the park is the best thing ever. We've found a new place to throw rocks, learn to skip them, watch fish and butterflies and dragonflies, and do so many of the other things we loved to do together at our old park. The battery on my camera was dead by the time we found the water...so no pictures. But little discoveries like this are part of what's allowing my heart to start calling our new house our new home.

If Will were telling you about it, he would probably share that there was a dead fish laying on the grass nearby, being slowly carried away by ants...so he's got plans for us to take him fishing there soon. He said to me, "but I would just do catch and release." Where does he learn this stuff? We don't fish.

this is the scene at our house most school days at 7:00 a.m.: two boys enraptured by the TV, still half-asleep, mindlessly eating breakfast, about to be told, "time to go! load up!"

it got near freezing on Sunday night (odd for Texas in mid-April) so we were all layered up for school Monday morning

And (drumroll, please) finally, the picture I've been waiting to post...

We said goodbye to the tile guys about 8:00 tonight. It is finished. (and yes, that's tile that looks like a wood floor--won't absorb Jim's oil paint like real wood would--won't drive Jim crazy like laminate and Sonnet's nails would). Give us a week, and we'll have a guest room ready for anyone who wants to come.