The Opening of the Pool

Can you tell there's water in there and Beaver isn't just pretending to float in a yellow boat on the bottom of a mud caked sand box lid?

They lack for no ingenuity.  I can say with all certainty, that having a mess of a yard has contributed to the imagination of my children.  That water bottle was left over from the team that did our roof and lay dormant under the snow until spring's thaw, and now, wallah!  A raft!

And did you know a trebuchet doubles as a car?  It kind of reminds me of Fred Flintstones vehicle.

Incidentally, "trebuchet" was NOT in my spell-checker when it indentified it as a mistake. I had to go to dictionary.com to see if I spelled it correctly.  And I'd like to know why a word defined as: 

a medieval engine of war with a sling for hurling missiles,

is NOT considered pertinent for today's readers?

Every year when the snow is (mostly) melted and the sun can warm your back, they break out the kitchens. 

Each differs in design depending on what's available for confiscation.

Let's take a closer look at what's for dinner:

Dinosaur soup.  Or a hot tub.  

You decide.

Those aren't freckles.  

Remember the herd that was only thawed out yesterday?

Here they are, conspicuously apart from the pool scene.  

"What about those animals?"  I asked Sawyer.

"They aren't invited.  They have to make their own place," he returned dispassionately.

I'm telling you, our backyard is a hard land.