~ The Swing ~

We had a bonfire at Grandma Jane’s Orchard last night.

She has the most wonderful Grandfather Hickory tree near the bonfire Ring, and on one of its ancient limbs hangs a well-worn, wooden swing.  The kind of swing you’d hoist your barefoot, sweaty-self up on after gulping down an ice-cold glass of Mom’s lemonade (with extra sugar on the bottom of the cup).

The kind of swing you’d jump off of time, and time again, because you knew, you just knew that if you kept trying, eventually you would fly just like Superman.

Varmint and Critter jumped on it together while waiting for the bonfire to be lit.

It’s not really big enough for both.

But it was fun trying.

And even though on any other given day they wouldn’t want to touch eachother; even though it was muggy and the mosquitos were out; even though they probably got some splinters on their cute rumps,

they enjoyed every bloomin’ minute of it.

Which makes me happy.  Which is a good thing, because ‘if Mama ain’t happy, ain’t Nobody happy’.