Three days with a wild woman

Sisters function as safety nets in a chaotic world simply by being there for each other.

 – Carol Saline

We traveled together - south to our hometown and later to our mother's hometown.

We had work to do and got it done.

We had friends to see, folks to hug, and people to comfort. There were people who needed to comfort us.

We worked and watched. We prayed. We laughed and sang.

We wore ourselves out.

And I'm ready to do it again.

I insisted we stop at the Goodwill store. It is halfway home and always interesting.

I would arrange in size order not "color," but this is pretty.

There was only a little trespassing, but no one really minded.

She ate healthier than I did. Her breakfast.

MY breakfast (with butter, syrup, and a lot of bad coffee. [Look...I haven't had a waffle in a long time. And she helped me make it -She made me do it!]

"Move over, Daddy"   One of our grand nephews at the football game.

Part of our nephew's garden in the morning sun.

Part of our friends' garden.

The sun was shining on the sea as we headed to find Chinese food for dinner with our youngest nephew.

I walked over this bridge one summer - with friends and on a dare in a way. I think we need to do it again as "they" are threatening to build a new bridge.

A full moon rose over the neighborhood where we were raised.

An unexpected stop led to a morning of work at one of the family plots. My baby brother and I attacked this forsythia a few years ago. DH and I noted it was encroaching on great grandmother's stone (again) on our last visit. WE decided to invest in the tools to tame the devil, at least temporarily.

We worked for 3 hours, drank two iced teas (when we needed a break), and  hauled 9 bags of cuttings to the dumpster.  Then we were on the road headed north and to the end of the trip.

BS using the small shears. We had big loppers too. [Please remember - friends don't let friends plant forsythia!] We agreed the work was therapeutic.

She made me stop at the garden store. I need these guys in my garden.

There has to be a note:

A sister smiles when one tells one’s stories – for she knows where the decoration has been added.

– Chris Montaigne