Floyd Fest

It just doesn't get much better than that. I mentally weighed sixteen weeks of Kindermusik with a weekend of bands, dancing, and music-making in Floyd in the mind of a four year old. You know who wins. John took his first unassisted steps. The weather was blissful; there was one shower and Saturday night people were wearing sweaters and jackets while most of America was sweltering. Ella got to play with a few friends and made some new ones. The June bugs were swarming on the cusp of August, and John and I talked again about moving to Floyd, homeschooling, getting real.

My favorite group of the weekend was Appalachian Roots. Simple. Real. I also really appreciated a Isaac's "sawhammer" as he strummed along to a sweet song in the shed near the tents.

I downloaded seventy pictures yesterday, mostly of the children. My posts have been short, inversely proportional to the time that John spends napping these days. Mobility has it's price as well.