Mary and Martha

Memorial Day weekend my three daughters traveled with me to the farm to help get their grandmother packed up. All three helped a little, of course, but Annie was the champion. She kept busy, working alongside the grownups. She also instigated a rather festive time claiming her grandfather's plaid workshirts (not shorts!), and each of the girls took home one or more. (Pearl claimed the only one with pink in it.)

Pearl and Emma went to the creek and caught tadpoles, then waded through the pond and caught a frog. (All were released by the end of the day.) They coaxed the cat out of hiding. They took my camera for a walk and took blog pictures for me. They built a bonfire and roasted marshmallows. Their aunt gave them a whole box of games and they took them out one by one and played them. (When I asked them why they weren't helping, Pearl said, "We're testing the games.")

I really appreciated Annie. I really appreciated Emma and Pearl. All in all, the three of them had a great weekend and made the memories they most wanted to make. I thought of titling this post "Two Marys and a Martha," but then I decided that I didn't want to be that literal. No one was sitting at the feet of Jesus. No one worked without a break and got crabby about it.