The golden light

Oh, you thought we were done with indulgent dog posts did you? Well, you'd be wrong. I had so much fun taking these two out during the golden light and snapping pictures while Miller ran them around. What is it about the country that makes the light so delicious?


There is something inspiring about the pure joy these two get out of having our full attention. They require so little of us, just love. They don't mind if we didn't see that their water bowl was empty, or that we didn't realize they needed to go outside before we ran to the store (who again authorized this parenting thing??). It's the biggest treat for them to get to spend time with us like this, and I'm pretty sure they were aware of that. Life turns heavenly when we toss the ball - or in this case, the freaky octopus bunny - in the sunshine.

Bliss.

Fetch, two ways:


Maddie fetches anything and has a tough time giving it up, even though she desperately wants you to throw it again. She'll fetch until she keels over from exhaustion and will dive from six feet high into the pool for a toy.



Georgia will fetch nothing, ever, but will run after the toy you've thrown and jubilantly return to you, hoping the object has magically teleported itself back into your hands so you can play that fun game again. She's a special one.


Sweet sleepy pup, with her best friend Eeyore. These two do everything together.
These two were t.i.r.e.d for the rest of this trip and practically comatose a few days after. We can't wait to return to Settlers Crossing next spring, with both the dogs and the Peanut in tow. I sincerely hope they take as much delight in her as they do in us (and I'm pretty sure she'll find everything they do hilarious).

My happy place

Our hill country trip was born out of an errand we needed to run in Ingram. Miller's parents had given him a hand-engraved belt buckle from a master silversmith as a gift for passing the bar last year, and we were to go to his shop in Ingram to choose one.

Well, it just so happens that Ingram is about 10 minutes away from Camp Mystic, where I spent 13 summers of my life. It's idyllically situated among cypress trees in a valley on the Guadalupe River, minutes outside of Hunt in (what I think is) the very prettiest part of the Hill Country. It's a special place in that intangible way, something that I can't really pinpoint except to say that I always left camp renewed, and in a much better place than when I arrived in July. There were years that I really, really needed camp, even in my early 20s - maybe moreso in my early 20s. I also know that I bawled all the way home each August, devastated to leave my friends. Those same friends who, years later, were at (and in) my wedding, my baby shower - they are the lifelong kind you treasure. It remains such a big part of me, and I am so happy that I will be able to share that with my daughter.


Coming back to Mystic always feels like visiting an old friend - it's so familiar and unchanging. It's my happy place.


Of course, my summers at Mystic have long been over, but they always welcome you with open arms any time you'd like to stop by for a visit.


These little ladies seemed to get it. They bounded all over the grounds and are ready to be signed up for next summer.


We were patting ourselves on the back, watching them here. Yes siree, we thought we had some pre-tty well-trained little dogs, who gingerly sidled up to the river for a drink without jumping in. We told them not to and they listened! Well done, us! What obedient, well-behaved children we will have! We are on the road to successful parenthood!


Ah. How foolish we are. They were just looking for that extra special part of the river that no one swims in because it's 100% murky, gooshy Guad Grunge. Perfect if you're just about to get back in the car.


Maybe it's just our imaginations, or wishful thinking, but something between these two changed this weekend; they seemed to morph from merely tolerating one another's existence to becoming more of a little team. We aren't sure what happened, but we hope they keep it up and use their combined powers for good and not evil.

Our precious pups

For the next 7 or so weeks, these two have our full attention. We're feeling a tad guilty that we're about to totally shake up their little worlds, but I know they will adjust. We're taking them on our trip to the hill country this weekend, hoping to enjoy this last bit of time as just us and the pups. They already seem to know something's up, and have become very clingy lately. I wish I could tell them that in a few months, when green beans start flying from the high chair, they'll see the upside of babies in the house. Singing a different tune altogether I'll bet. Hopefully they will also learn that maniacal barking is bad bad bad for sleeping babies! We're working on it. On that note, if anyone has any remedies for keeping smug neighbor cats from sashaying across the windowsills (or rogue squirrel terrorists from invading the yard), please do get in touch!