A catch-up

Buncha photos hanging out on my computer, taking up space. Look! My father-in-law built me some garden beds!

Eleanor has reached an age of being actually helpful about stuff. I can leave her with the hose and be like, Please water everyone thx be back in 10.

We didn't plant until mid-July, for obvious reasons, but things have been doing alright. Potato patch:

POTATO PATCH! Gotta dig that guy up soon!

Tomato row:

TOMATO ROW!

(In all honesty, tomato row is not doing super well. I only managed six cherry tomato plants this year and one of them died and the rest aren't producing super prolifically, so the girls go out every day and fight over the handful of semi-ripe tomatoes and none of them ever get to red unless we are out of town for a bit. NEXT YEAR I WILL DO BETTER.)

Garden beds:

GARDEN BEDS!

My parents brought me a housewarming kale when they came to help us move in, and it died a little bit when I transplanted it to the garden but now you can see it is a MONSTER. Also monstrous are my cucumbers. Geneva loves to get her hands on a massive one and just carry it around for the day.

IT IS PRECIOUS TO HER.

I have never once managed to bring carrots to term, but I've also always been racing against the Saskatoon ground freeze. I thinned my carrots the other day and they are actually growing and I should be able to leave them for another month at least, so we might get carrots!

Other news. One of my many Sads in leaving Saskatoon is because it's where Eleanor spent her toddler years, and all of my memories are tied up with her hilarious little toddler self. I mean. Look at this little bald hamhock, can barely see out a window. 

WHO IS THIS NINE-YEAR-OLD, I'm asking.

The Olympics were a thing that happened. We made medals to celebrate. 

Eleanor, listing off Olympic sports that she knows: 'Olympic diving, Olympic jumping, gymnastics with a ball, punching, strong time...'

We ate a lot of suppers in front of the tv, and there has never been more Jumping Off Of Stuff Or Over Each Other.

Geneva would do this 'slow emotion' walk, I died every time.

I took the girls to Coneheads, ice cream parlour of my late teens/early 20s/camp counselor years.

Geneva takes the daintiest licks, and her mouth is so small, and her tongue likewise, and it was the hottest day and that ice cream dripped all over her dress.

Eleanor helped her finish it. 'Don't bite it, Ewwonah! Just WICK it! DON'T BITE IT.'

They have spent a non-zero amount of the past month decorating themselves (and each other! And ME!) with pipe cleaners.