Banjo Man turns 81 today, but I thought he was going to be 82.
Let’s not tell him that.
Yesterday morning as Banjo Man and I were drinking coffee on the deck and talking about the weather and all things Idaho, son Will came up from the beach after a rare morning visit to the lake. He is usually studying in the morning, but I suppose he wanted to wade in the water before it got too hot.
We’re having a bit of a heat wave. Highs of 100 degrees, which is rare and won’t last long.
In the meantime, the Funny Grandson was enjoying his morning, too:
As always, I asked, “Did you find anything?”
It has been many weeks since a precious arrowhead has been discovered.
“Yes,” Will said. “A beauty.”
We waited for him to pull it out of his pocket and show us, but he only said, “It’s still down there. You have to find it.”
Banjo Man has never found an arrowhead, Never. But Will was determined that this would be the day, so we raced (yes, raced) to the beach before it disappeared.
“It’s not going anywhere,” Will assured us, afraid we were going to break a hip in our rush down the hill.
He gave hints. And finally? Half buried in wet rocks, there it was.
I took a picture of what it looked like resting beside the beach rocks so you could see the difference.
It’s going to be another hot day, so we are all heading up to the cabin to remove any traces of food that would attract a bear very soon.
I am “bakin’ bacon”, as the FG loves to say, for later. Birthday BLT’s, anyone? There is still leftover pineapple cake for a birthday dessert.
And we’ll swim. We have spent our afternoons in the water as we soak up these glorious hot days of summer.
Happy Birthday, Banjo Man! It’s been a rough winter, but we’re all still here and life couldn’t get any better than this.