At least that's what it looks like on the calendar over there. So, another weekend update, this time Dateline: The Quechee Balloon Festival.
First glance, this was a run of the mill craft and fried food fair (not my favorite), until suddenly, around 7:00 Saturday evening, the wind shifted, the weather turned, and the waiting was over. The balloonists' trucks and vans started pulling on to the Quechee green; baskets unloaded, balloons unfurled, burners lit, and one after another, the balloons blossomed and rose up into the air - all while anyone who cared to was standing right there, right alongside the noise and heat and commotion - like being in the crowd when Dorothy took back off for Kansas with the Wizard of Oz.
(Now I don't know if it's quite right to claim a barn can blossom. We thought this one was Sponge Bob Square Pants when we first saw something yellow and definitely not round inflating among the other balloons.
It certainly flew with far more grace than Dorothy's farmhouse ever did.)
Domestic life continues when we're not off on our weekend excursions. Laundry day in, day out. Twelve is baking her way through the King Arthur Flour online cookbook; Ten transformed a stash of cardboard and duct tape into the Snapshot-O-Matic, a device to make Rube Goldberg proud; Seven's class skipped forward a few centuries, from Colonial Day to Beach Day. And thanks to a gorgeous paint job by D, the garage is the best looking room in the house at the moment (pictures to come). (The bikes are in the hall and dining room until the paint dries.)
We're on the brink of what feels like real summer starting: two more days, and school's out until the end of August. The publication schedule at work is about to slow down briefly, too, which means there's a window opening where I'll be home far more over the next few weeks than I have been since we arrived here, and I can't wait.