This month, generations of my ancestors rolled in their graves when potatoes were not planted on St. Patrick's Day. I'm so glad that my dad bucked tradition; however, and waited for his grandsons to come home during Easter weekend and help him out.
Kenyon and Kade thoroughly enjoyed themselves. Not sure how straight the rows ended up or if everything planted was indeed a potato (Kade liked to play with clods of horse manure that were roughly the same size), but nevertheless, a good time was had by all.
 |
| Possessed? More like an allergy induced fog that lasted the entire weekend. |
 |
| He has aspirations to become a plumber one day. |
No comments:
Post a Comment
Just like mama said... If you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all.