The Return

If you know me, you may think the title is about the return of Jesus. 

Nope. 

This is about my return to my childhood home on Lake Huron in Michigan (pointing to thumb). 

It's been a bit over...many...years and I've hardly changed:

I was showing Oldest Son photos yesterday and it struck me how often our riding lawnmower made an appearance. In Michigan a riding lawnmower doubles as a snowplow in the winter. There's an attachment you can get that shoves snow into giant mounds. Think: I am the king of the castle. Here my Dad is pulling my sister and I around on a toboggan. In the American South a toboggan is a woven hat. Up north it is a long wooden sled curled up on the front end like an elf's shoe.

Those were dark days when even the children worked. According to the date on the photo, my sister was 7 here. That can't be right. She was paid $1 an acre to mow our yard, but that was when she was about 12 I think. Maybe she is just playing here. That's me on the swingset, not working. Dad with rake. He worked too. We all worked and everyone smoked and no one wore seatbelts. How did we survive? 

My sister has hardly changed either, by the way. It's uncanny! 

My sister seems to have worked a lot, while I am a lady of leisure even then:

I'll be home soon. 

The house is a vacation rental these days and hubby and I are taking our now grown kids to see it. I won't make them mow the yard. Promise. 

But I will post pictures!