I'm starting to miss my bed a little. Not that my hotel bed is not comfy, I'm just missing the familiarity of my pillow.
Of course my hooligans don't want to return home at all. They want to continue to explore our land every waking minute. There are some areas we haven't even ventured to yet. I think the boys will actually be disappointed once a vineyard is planted, it will be too monotonous for them.
So since my days have been spent roaming the hills of the Willamette Valley, here's whats been happening.
As you turn from the main road onto our street here is the view to the left. It's breathtaking.
The view to the right is a completely different scene but equally picturesque.
The road is dotted with beautiful old barns like this one. It makes me feel as if I've stepped back in time.
Then once you step foot on our property, this is all you'll see...HOOLIGANS WITH STICKS!
The bigger the better.
But sometimes smaller is key...as long as it's shaped like a slingshot.
The sticks are used to shove into snake holes.
Or as machetes to chop down vegetation.
Mostly, the hooligans just want to look cool with their sticks.
Sometimes the sticks are used to point out a bug on the raspberries.
And forgotten while eating a sweet treat.
But the distractions don't last for long because the sticks would quickly reappear along with a rock to throw.
I would try to point out my perfectly sloped Pinot Noir hills...
Nobody cared. They just wanted me to take more pictures of them with their sticks.
Could someone please tell me what is it with boys and their sticks? I'm feeling a little left out.