Adventures Part 1: Washington

There is no better way to start a two-year European adventure than a farewell tour of the purple mountains majesty and the for-spacious plains. We started off in Washington, where we breathed in the salty ocean air in Seattle and crossed over the mighty Columbia (roll on). Our scenic plans were thwarted by rain, snow, and seasonal roads that were still closed, but many magical moments were spent on the farm, running through meadows, hiking cow trails in the woods, and destroying Grandma’s flowerbeds. The Old House, repository of who-knows-what, both repelled (me) and attracted (others of a certain adventurous spirit.) The Boy played with boy-cousins (well, mostly with their toys) and enjoyed having more “sisters,” as he called them (the poor guy doesn't know that there are any other kind of short relatives, after all). The children gathered eggs from the chickens; chased the guinea hens; rounded up pigs; sat on Leroy, the three-legged dog; petted a cow; cuddled with the cat (or chased the cat, depending on the child); learned to avoid Roxy, the one-woman min-pin, and had a fabulous time. And then . . . (this is a cliff-hanger, obviously, so you'll be waiting on pins and needles for part two.)