Groundhog? More like Life Coach

I have Grassy Sam, our resident groundhog, to thank for getting us out of the house this afternoon.

I had just finished complaining to Martin that I was getting The Cold, I didn't feel like making supper, I just felt like laying around, etc., etc., when I looked out the window and saw our substantially tubby groundhog, on his hind legs, devouring our red raspberries.

To tell you the truth, it was kind of adorable. I rapped on the screen but Grassy Sam was not deterred. So out I went, ordering the girls to turn off the TV and get outside.

The afternoon was mellow and lovely. The leaves on our Black Walnut were tinged with yellow, the sunflowers heavy with their seeds, the raspberries (black and red), hanging full on their stems. Beatrix immediately soaked herself in mud and then beat a path down our hill to the swings. Merry and Elspeth climbed on their slick sleds and slid down the hill (yes, they slide on grass, incredibly--its either the sleds or the red wagon, and the sleds go so much more gently).

I picked about four cups of raspberries, enough for another batch of jam, and I pushed Elspeth on the tire swing and made Beatrix laugh and scolded Merry for her "campout" debris still in the yard, made it up the stairs, and arrived at the house with enough energy to cook. Merry, my queen-girl, took the other two girls upstairs, poured the bath, bathed them, and brought them down freshly dressed.

I got to listen to NPR while I cooked dinner.

And it's all thanks to Grassy Sam, happy groundhog and life coach.