Horseshoes were played. Nature was enjoyed. Naps were taken. Creek was explored. Lessons were taught.
We spent Memorial Day weekend at Rock Eddy Bluff Farm, a different sort of bed and breakfast in the northernmost Ozarks. There is a traditional B&B on the property, with Kathy's breakfast and a bed on their second floor, but we stay at the house on the property that has running water and electricity (and A/C--we are not roughing it). We've been going there for 12 years now and we've come to see it as our own place--we note when things change, we take comfort in the sameness. We play the board games and do the puzzles that we've left behind on previous trips. We know how the oven works. We know where the spare towels are. And so forth.
It was only us this time--friends couldn't make it down, so we were alone for the first time in 12 years. Of course, we had three kids so not "alone". But it was weird on Friday night, and then on Saturday when we came home from the weird Amish farmer's place with buckets of blueberries, and Mary wasn't reading at the table, Mal wasn't bent over in the kitchen making something wonderful for dinner. In fact, we ate frozen pizza and spaghetti and the kids had pop tarts one morning. I did make a blueberry pie, so it wasn't too pathetic. But it was definitely less than we usually partake in. We even went to Dixon to the drive-in for hamburgers Saturday afternoon.
And Jake had no challenge at the horseshoe pits, beating me quickly.
But it's ok. We'll go back in October and again next May...