When Bowden hides behind a door, usually it means trouble. This time, though, it meant that he was protecting the two lizards and one salamander that another boy had found in a rotten log.

It was impressive because I didn't even know we had salamanders up here- but we do.

These hands in this picture- these are my baby's hands. He'll be eight in a week, and his parts are no longer baby parts, or even little boy parts. It's slightly heartbreaking to me.

I went to bed last night with a strange mixture of excitement and sadness. Excitement for the joy of school being OVER, having the worst year of schooling done and over with (more about that later), excitement over having mine chickens close at hand and home for the summer, excitement about SUMMER.

And sadness, because this is the last time Bowden will be in second grade, this is the completion of a year of struggle and educational hardship for my little man, a year in which I had many plans and completed so few of them. The last time my Goose will be in kindergarten and be five. Jack leaves the age of three in five days. I'm sad because I am afraid that I'll forget so much of these days, and that I was so very cranky this year, and I can't go back and do that over.

Tonight we leave for our annual camping trip with the Whites and other friends, and it should be awesome. We'll be out of range, with very little to do, and surrounded by some of the people we like most. I can't wait.

But I wish everything else could.