Out past Little Pigeon Hollow is Pigeon Hollow. At the head of the hollow is this fine oolite hill. I get to pass it often on my way to work in the summer, though I'm not sure why I don't go out that way much any other season.
Asher got his first new bike today, and as the proud new owner of a new bike, I predict it'll be left out in the rain in about, oh, three days.
Oh, but he's happy and trying to treat it well now- if anyone can do it right, it'll be Asher.
In an annual occurrence here at the Little House on the High Desert, the swallows have hatched out and fledged another three chicks. It's always good to see all of the birds in the community come out to help them out of the nest.
School is out (for a week, at least)! We ran south toward the Waterpocket Fold for to get far away from everything we see and do everyday.
Far from the summer we feared with no green or water, all of the juicy thunderstorms brought up by what we affectionately (though inaccurately) call the July-August southerly monsoons have made the desert flow and bloom with water.
We stopped in Boulder and ate good food and enjoyed speaks all along the long trip.
We got in after dark, and though we wished we were under the stars out in the desert, it was good to be home with our screaming children.
One of the things that this town does right these days is combining the three wards in Spring City for a father's and son's campout. We're not a big town, so the division between wards can be more of a wallbuilder than a way to organize and manage. It was good to hang out with good people along with some avoidance of the usual 'churchy' types who just sat and talked about business and money, predictably.