Chris survived the ice-chopping assignment. The only feedback I heard was "It was hard!"
We crossed paths long enough for him to let me know he and Peter were heading to town to pick up the ski-doo...then there was the flurry of a giggly departure. Okay it was actually the thud, thud, thud of big boots heading back outside...with giggles.
My 70 year old Uncle Peter has seemingly very quickly jumped upon the excuse of more helping hands around to rationalize the purchase of a new ski doo. Clearly, another conveyence is needed on top of the quad and the AMT to move people around the farm!
The last ski doo seen around here was several decades ago, driven by Uncle Orest, the handlebars of which came off when taken for a spin as they were only held on by vice grips - he hadn't gotten around for welding them on. :)
I conclude with a photo of my husband whirling around the field outside the window with Uncle Peter cheering him on.I'm pretty sure he really wants HIS turn...
Happy Monday everyone.
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