TRADITIONS

We have written time and time again about tradition and the importance thereof.

This early July friends and family have helped preserve a number of traditions which we look forward to.

As we have reported, June and early July this year have been times of sorrow as well as of gladness – marriages and funerals, the number of which we cannot remember the likes of.

Is that wording awkward or not?
No matter, as Dear Gramma would say.
It is what it is.

It would have been easy to let a few of the dear traditions fall by the board for a year.
In addition to the weddings and funerals, there have been and are ongoing home improvements North as well as Downstate.
There have been anxieties and nervousness and happiness and joy and confusions.
And life goes on, and Dear Wife and Dear Family and Friends conspired to walk the walk, to keep up the old things, the old ways.

Dear Daughter and Son-in-Law traveled North with us to observe Fourth of July doings.
Her Father-in-Law and Mother-in-Law could not make it this year.
They were missed but we carried on.

And beloved friends/family from The Mole Hole were in Camp as well – and we joined together to view fireworks, The Sound of Freedom of the Navy’s Blue Angels, and many meals and cocktail hours and hours of fellowship.

We put out the flag and talked of politics, religion, and other such wonderful subjects so many folk are afraid to talk about. Or which many folks do not know how to talk about.

And now we look forward to the annual family visit to another Up North village, perhaps dinner out or, failing that, delicious sloppy joe leftovers brought up by Dear Son-in-Law and Dear Daughter.

A bike ride this morning to a bikers’ coffee shop for coffee and muffins marked the second edition of a new tradition, four of us huffing and puffing along a beautiful stretch of highway, following the curves of Our Lake.

Well, one of us was doing the most puffing.

Cloudy skies; high humidity; and nearly ninety degrees. Unsettled weather. Good chance of storm.

Not a good day for our kind of boating. The Kayla Elise remains in dock.

But the villages beckon.
And there is a village potter on the outskirts of one who makes gorgeous things in clay and writes notes on their undersides reflecting any of his observations of the moment.

Neat!!

Now there is a dog to walk.

More later.