What is there to say about the best, happiest, most friend-filled weekend since our wedding?
Remember how I was professing my love for the house and our new life here, but feeling like it wasn't quite "home" yet? Well, I learned something this weekend. Full of heaped plates and brimming glasses, with our whole kaleidoscope of friends new and old strung out among rooms and yard and porches, a house can't help but feel like anything but home. The town came out, en masse, to offer their congratulations. We felt honored.
It rained, and not a little, either. There wasn't much time spent in the yard, but the people who mattered most got to take a quick and rain-splattered jog through the orchard and around the garden. After all, there's always next year. Kids played in driveway puddles and announced weather updates after every thunderclap.
At the end of the night, two very pleased (if slightly soused) hosts had a celebratory hug and fell into bed. That was Part One.
Part Two was pancakes on Sunday. Two of our favorite families drove out for the morning, and though Patrick sadly had to split early in the morning (festival), and was missed, it was still a dang good time. The pancakes were hot and toasty. Our Vermont friends brought a jug of Vermont syrup.
The women stayed to clean up (bless them all!) while the Dads took four kids to the park across the street. We figured they were just outnumbered enough to keep them in line. (The Dads, not the kids.) Later, we joined them.
Thank you, friends, for one of my favorite mornings ever, and for showing me a brave and beautiful face of motherhood, and reminding me of everything I'm looking forward to.
Altogether I'd say it was a pretty good party.