Take my word for it, trees like that do not grow on the short grass prairie.
And roses! Growing outside! Like it was no big deal!
I had a Georgia O'Keeffe moment:
And my grandmother had a moment of her own:
The boy met a hermit crab:
And I got all artsy with my camera, as I used to do back in the day when I was living on student loans and hope and pretension (that would be... oh, let's see, last year).
I admired a bridge:
And a lighthouse:
And my boy...
...ran down...
...the Neptune Stairs...
...without falling. (Well, he fell later, but that's another story. Actually, it's not a story at all. He fell because he's a boy and boys fall.)
Why did we do all this?
The best reason possible:
My mom got her Master's degree from Royal Roads University in Victoria, and we all went out to celebrate with her. A good time was had by all, and we couldn't be more proud. ("I went to my mom's convocation," I told a co-worker. "Oh," she said, "so that's where you get your complete lack of ambition.")
Congratulations, mom. You done good.
1 comment:
As soon as I saw the stairs, I knew where you were. Mr. Spit was there way back when it was still a military college. And tells a brilliant story about a peacock roosting in the tree at the top of the stairs, and dive bombing the commandant, each morning.
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