Freedom!

It's been a long day at the farm, and we are all wiped out...except the kids, of course, who could likely run all night (again). Where DO they get that constant, bright-eyed internal combustion? Even with a solid shot of espresso under my belt, I can't maintain it!

Part of the fatigue is due to the potty training regimen we've got going. Jonathan's actually picked it up remarkably quickly, using the regular toilet throughout the day appropriately (with the one exception of the time he stood in the toilet and did a little water-dance...). However, I still try to run him to the bathroom about every ten to twenty minutes to avoid accidents, and that just makes it hard to get much done, especially on this, my first day of online teaching.

Folks, if you are potty trained, give your mom/pop/nanny/whoever trained you a call and thank that person from the bottom of your bladder.

The perk of all this, though, is getting to see a little boy running around in the cutest, tiniest undies ever. See?

One of the major advantages of living in the middle of nowhere, we have found, is that it doesn't really matter what you wear...or don't wear. Below, Jonathan is modeling the "I'm dressed for bed but still want to play outside" look that you've probably seen on the Paris runways this fall.

Grace is equally fashionable. Here, she's wearing a nightgown UNDER a slip. Reason: I asked her to put on some pants if she wanted to play outside before bed. She came downstairs in this gauzy number and said, "I couldn't find my jeans, but I thought this probably would work." Close.

But really, the only witnesses are, ummm, not too particular about attire...

This just adds to the laid-back environment of the farm: no need to dress to impress. It's a reprieve I appreciate within a society driven by the urge to get more, more, more and to look hot, hotter, hottest while doing it. 

Instead, we take our pajama/boot/slip/tennis shod-children on a sunset walk. We notice that in one direction, we get orange, pink, purple-blue skies fading into the dusk, the sun becoming a slip of copper, while in the other...

...we watch the moon sail upward, coaxing us to put off sleep just a few minutes longer so that we can take in the first stars and the evening smells of fresh-mown hay and cooling prairie grasses. Turning back, we hear the cows lowing as they regroup by the barn for the evening, and coyotes yipping in the south fields. Spencer can't help but bay back; the freedom has engulfed him, too.

Goodnight, friends!