Not much to say, too much to process, just holding on until the pieces fall into place.

The hillbilly circus below has expanded, literally, with some large adults and another vehicle squeezed into the mix.  I don’t know where the poor children even fit.  Lots more slamming, banging, spitting, and insecurity.  So much for hopes of them moving out first.

Nevertheless, grass must be mowed, tomatoes and peppers must still be harvested, and flowers must be photographed.  (Roses courtesy of E.)  And beer must be drunk.