Feeling Illinois I

Just got back from another relaxing trip to the Lincoln State. The plane flight went as well as could be expected, given we sat four to three seats. Grandpa kindly picked us up curbside and drove us to the homestead.

Claire's first course of action: Dress mom's old dolls.






Grandpa and granny know what Claire likes. Kindly, grandpa built a swing set, using plans he cobbled off Web sites and his own tools. He did great. The set held sturdy as Claire begged to go higher and higher.





The skies might not be as wide open as in other psrts of this country, but granny and grandpa's place and their surroundings offered Claire space to explore.



Tomatoes grew there like berries grow here. We found redbirds and owls, locust shells and dew-draped spider webs.



We saw ponds and canals, turtles and toads and one solitary, fleeing firefly.



We tried to find fish. But the bass and bluegill proved elusive at high noon on the Hennepin.



Brad took care to direct his inexperienced passengers while motoring away from the bank, plying through algae blooms and around underwater brambles of fallen cottonwood limbs.





Claire couldn't resist fondling a lure and ended up snagging her thumb. The girl's first trip in a boat was marked by a midday meltdown.



Nothing a Sierra Mist couldn't cure.




"That's fishing," she learned. And man, did it wipe her out. Later, she collapsed beneath a self-built fort in granny's living room.



No visit to granny and grandpa's would be complete without several nights of grillin'.



Or dressing the grandchild up in her mom's adorable dresses made by her granny.



Grandma Hanson, Uncle Claude, Uncle Brent and Aunt Judy and Uncle Seth and Aunt Jackie all came one afternoon to meet Paige. They showered her with attention.





Claire often asked to be lifted into a tree where she could look us in the eyes, feel the Midwestern breeze fluffing her hair and vow that, one day, she would climb the tree by herself.