Not very far, but still. We went to my parents’ house on the Delaware Bay a couple of weeks ago.  I meant to post pics and then didn’t.  Obviously.  I almost didn’t GET to post them, thanks to Maggie the Eggplant-shaped Cat.  I’d gotten them onto iPhoto from my camera and deleted the originals from the camera, but had not yet exported them into my pictures file.  I got up to answer the phone/find a sock/put out a fire and came back to find Maggie sitting on my keyboard.  Steve has pointed out that it is unfair to be annoyed by cat butt on my keyboard if I leave the computer open.  The gerbil tank is right next to it and a heating pad next to the television is nigh impossible for any cat to resist.  Be that as it may, I shooed her away and the photos were GONE.  poof.  Ctrl+ass+Delete.

Much cursing and fiddling later, I had them back.  So, for your enjoyment, the photos.  Justin’s kids came up too, so it was a cousin-palooza.  It was one of those days where it was suddenly 95 degrees, framed on either side by 60, so the water was mostly cold, but at low tide, the water between the sandbars was clear and warm.

Ordinarily, you can see oil tankers sitting on the horizon, pretty far out.  But that weekend, they were much closer in.  Close enough that I could hear the engines.  And they were churning up all manner of nastiness from the seabed.  Great hairy hunks of seaweed lay all over the beach.  It looked as if those Puli rasta-dogs were washing up on shore (you must take a moment and do a Google image seach for “puli agility.”  going over jumps, it looks like the dog is exploding).

I hadn’t packed the kids any swimwear, because it had be about 50 degrees for many weeks and I knew the water would be frigid.  But I hadn’t counted on the sandbar water being so inviting.  They squelched out through the nasty muck (Lily lost a shoe at one point and *I* had to go out in that horrid, slimy mess and find it.  ew.) until they reached nice, clear, warm water.  There was a lady who thought she was going to have a quite sunbathe in her kayack.

They’d have stayed out there for hours if I hadn’t been bored.out.of.my.mind and insisted on coming back.  It was just far enough from the house that an adult needed to be around.  Unfortunately for them, that adult was me, and the wonder of childhood is only fascinating for so long. Then I want to sit down.   Unlike them, I was unwilling to sit in the water in my clothes, so they were at my mercy.

The next day was wretchedly hot, with what little breeze there was coming off the land. And by “land” I mean “swamp.”  so the air was heavy, moist, and full of mosquitos as big as pampered budgies.  Dad came in and said he’d see osprey in a nest near the edge of the swamp (a wildlife refuge), so Julianna and I grabbed our cameras and headed out.  In the air-conditioned van.  My camera is not well-suited to a photo safari, so I only have a photo of Julianna taking a photo:

and a grainy, last-known-photo of an osprey.  I swear it is one.  Really.

In other news, Ben and Dean dug through to the earth’s core:

And the Beach Plums were in bloom.  Apparently the name “Prime Hook” comes from whatever the Dutch was for Beach Plum.  The Americanization of the Dutch names in the area has made for interesting beach names–Broadkill, Murderkill, Prime Hook…

The kids and I do love it there…but oh the traffic.  I need a helicopter.  Or maybe I can get Ben and Dean to dig a tunnel to Frederick…

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