Grand Central

It was a day of comings and goings and began with a short visit from Joel who brought treats for the chickens.  As it was predicted to drop to eighty-nine, he reminded me to haul more firewood up to the porch so I could withstand the sudden chill.  Smart alec.  With some tomato trimmings thrown in with the carrot tops, the little girls enjoyed salad for breakfast.

After I'd finished with chores and a bit of housework, Dave rode up on his Harley.  (What is worse than finding a dead squirrel on the porch as a guest arrives?  Finding half a squirrel.  Thanks, Frank.)  Bessie Anne nearly turns herself inside out when the Kids come up.  She's as pleased to see them as I.  Bacon and fresh tomato sandwiches for lunch and nonstop conversation; it was a great one-on-one day.

Dave had to leave before the late race at Bristol started.  I fear he missed the display of histrionics shown by his favorite driver, Tony Stewart, after his car was wrecked.  Tsk tsk.

My milk customers stopped by after a day of wine tasting to drop off more jars for their Monday pick-up and stayed for a short chat.  (Gotta love that DVR.)

Neil Armstrong, first man on the moon, has died.  I had to touch base with Deb last night to ask if she remembered his amazing first step on Luna, and she did.  As young as they were, I wanted the Kids to be even a remote part of that momentous occasion and sat all of them in front of the television to watch the landing, and then trotted them outside to look at The Man On the Moon.  I also remember the interviews with Robert Heinlein and Isaac Asimov, science-fiction writers of the day.  The space travel they'd only imagined had become reality.  And what would H. G. Wells have said?  No matter how prepared he was, Armstrong was a brave man to take that "One small step."