
The next morning, many veteran cooks...

...give Gloria advice on her beans.
(It's a good thing she wasn't making soup or it would have been spoiled for sure.)

Fortunately, this sign was in the local bookstore, not on our aunt's door.

The aforesaid local bookstore.


Love me, love my crayfish.

Love crayfish?!

Before it was martyred for -

its Faith!

Well, I suppose in the end it was a romantic way to perish, for a crayfish.

Having Uncle Dale pull them - probably not a romantic way for weeds to perish.

It's hard work to fulfill Daddy's vision sometimes.

Adam gets weeding the yard and picking up toys confused.

Hey, where'd my toy go?

Over lunch, the scientific club convenes to discuss string theory, wave/matter duality, Lorentz contraction, multiple universe theories, space-time warpage, and double-slit interference patterns. Seriously, they did.

The wrong lens gets you into the wrong places.

Even from that position, I couldn't get the photo. Gloria's powershot saved the day.

Not only did I have the wrong lenses at the wrong places, I also was at the wrong places at the wrong times. I totally missed this photo shoot. Powershot to the rescue again.

I didn't miss this photo shoot, but the subjects did miss the point. It makes for an intriguing randomness that captures my cousins far better than any formal shot.

For volleyball, Seth was the server.

Grandma was the press.

When Grandma left, we were de-pressed.

No depression here.

Or here, unless you count the depression in the grass.