Eldest grandkid first — Tyler demonstrated how it’s done:

Next, it was Meg’s turn (Carson had found his own special perch to observe the action):

And, finally, it was Carson’s turn:

Not to be outdone, Uncle Brett decided to plant seeds of future recklessness in the heads of his kids and nephews by driving back and forth through the creek (or “crick” — we were in West Virginia, after all) on the ATV.

And, finally, the whole crew returning from the river — if you can’t spot a half-dozen unsafe activities in this picture (Benton in the background counts), you’re not really trying:

Potatoes.

As in “potato gun.” Benton and I made one a couple of years ago, have shot it on a number of occasions, and took it to Julie’s dad’s farm some time last year and just left it there. We’ve shot it a couple of times since then. If you’re not familiar with the concept, it’s a PVC pipe construction that has a chamber into which you squirt hairspray and then ignite with a flint-based igniter. It will launch a potato 100 yards, easy.

This weekend, the kids went through two 10-lb. bags. Benton and his cousin, Tyler, really got to perfecting their technique:

Benton and Tyler have been a pretty good pair for several years now, and the fact that they see each other more often since we moved to Ohio seems to be tightening that bond. They were inseparable all weekend. 

Not that Benton just hung out with Tyler. He also spent some time sighting in a pair of binoculars:

Birdwatching perhaps? Counting deer off in the distance? Um, no. Sorry, Mom. He was prepping to make sure he could focus in on the potato…that his cousin Meg was shooting at with a BB gun:

I did say I was going with “potatoes” for this post.

More from the trip to come in future posts.

From left to right and oldest to youngest: Tyler, Brianna, Meg, Benton, Marissa, Carson, Alana.

We headed back over — Julie and Benton walking up via the hunting cabin to retrieve the gear, Carson and I taking the much steeper, but shorter, route through the ravine, and Tyler and Tami taking a 4-wheeler. No fish were harmed in the taking of the following pictures.

The Pond

Carson on the Plank

Julie and Benton Walking Down as Carson Waits

Benton (Left) and Tyler Fishing

Benton Casting

Tim Casting for Carson (Tyler in the Foreground)

Carson Fishing (After Casting for Himself)

Tim Baiting Benton’s Hook

All of the Boys Baiting their Hooks

The Onlookers (Julie, Tami, and Carson Absorbed in His Red Power Ranger)

It turns out that the community we live in in Ohio has seven stocked ponds that, as residents, we can fish in without an Ohio fishing license. The boys are chomping at the bit to do that. Now, if only there were a couple of grandfathers chomping at the bit (or the hook, as it may be) to provide them with the appropriate tackle…

We’ll start with an incident that will, henceforth and forthwith, be referred to as, “When Two Rocks Collide.” The picture below is from Sunday morning, when Julie and I and the five cousins headed down to the river for some exploration. First up was revisiting the cave that Tyler, Meg, and Carson (followed by Benton and me) had “discovered” on Saturday morning when we took a non-trail from the farmhouse down to the river. This time, I was armed with some rope, as there is a very steep, very narrow, 20′ dirt slope to get up into the cave (which is really more of just a good-sized open space under some large boulders). Benton and Tyler scrambled up the slope. Alana was pitching a fit, so Julie was trying to keep her from slipping and sliding down the side of the hill below the cave. Meg scrambled up the slope, and Carson just couldn’t bear to wait until she made it all the way up (despite my admonitions). So, he was ~3 feet up when Meg was 4 or 5 feet from the top and inadvertently dislodged a rock that was a good 6 inches across. I was immediately behind Carson (ready to break anyone’s fall who came sliding down), and it looked to me like it just hit his hand. Tyler, from his vantage point above, thought it missed him entirely. So much for our eyesight. It caught him squarely in the face, as the scratches on his forehead, nose, and cheek illustrate. Needless to say, Carson lost it…but still insisted on climbing up the slope to the cave. We made it up, and his eyes seemed to be dilating/contracting fine. So, we had a blubbery, upset 10-15 minutes…but then everything turned out okay (the crawfish/minnow hunting mentioned in the previous post followed this incident and lasted for a good hour or so).

As for the second adventure, it had to do with the tractor and the brush hog. Bob is at least a month behind mowing the 100-200 acres of his farm that he mows each year. Various mechanical problems, combined with various family commitments (not the least of them being our arrival in Ohio), have put him way behind schedule. He got a late start on Saturday, but spent the better part of the day mowing. He was having some difficulties, in that the tractor was running a little hot. He tinkered with it quite a bit, but couldn’t find an obvious culprit. All it took was putting his son-in-law on it for an hour-and-a-half on Sunday afternoon…and it threw a rod. I’m pretty sure it was just bad timing on my part. I realized it was overheating — not yet into the red zone on the temperature gauge, but steadily climbing that way and not coming down as I kept raising the mower blade. I shut the tractor down and hoofed it a mile-and-a-half back to the farmhouse. The real adventure came when Bob and I pulled the tractor back behind his truck. Well, on the uphill sections, I was on the tractor and being pulled behind his truck. For the downhills, of which there are several that are long and relatively steep, we unhitched and I got to play rodeo with the tractor in neutral. As Julie commented later, she was glad to only witness the last part of that endeavor, and to have no prior knowledge of it!

No more real adventures, but we did string up a nice hammock that Bob picked up from one of his customers. It’s a big hammock, with plenty of room for Alana AND Carson with no significant squabbling.

And it wouldn’t be the farm without the 4-wheelers. The nicer one is undergoing repairs, and there was some griping on Benton’s part because he is not allowed to drive around the yard by the farmhouse by himself like Tyler and Meg can. Benton, of course, will be there soon enough, as he remains our extremely coordinated, extremely risk averse child. Carson, shown below, may never be allowed to actually drive unassisted (he has the coordination, but the common sense may never come)! This picture is atop “the High Point,” where Carson and I headed on Monday morning. He controls the throttle off and on, but is far from driving solo. Julie and I actually had a “date night” on the high point on Saturday night. After dinner, Pam watched the kids while we drove over to this grassy knoll and hung out for 10-15 minutes before driving back. ‘Twas nice!

Yet more pictures to come…but not tonight!

Labor Day weekend marked our first visit to the farm as Ohio residents (Julie, obviously, made many trips as an Ohio resident in her youth).

Due to Picasa’s and/or Blogger’s limitations, I can only get four images at a time directly from Picasa to a blog entry. This is a good way to keep me from posting an entire photo album, which I will do at some point via Shutterfly . So, the first four pics are an attempt to be a representative sample of some of the highlights.

First off, Alana’s absolute and unwavering adoration of her cousin, Tyler, has not wavered one whit since she stayed with him in Wadsworth during the move. She did a very convincing imitation of a puppy dog — following him around constantly and trying desperately to be involved with anything he was doing. Tyler is a real sport, and he genuinely seems to enjoy his status as Alana’s idol. He played catch with her, let her try to tackle him, gave her hugs, and generally accomodated her every whim to the same degree that her grandparents do.

The potato gun that Tim built on the farm over Christmas now has a permanent home there. In the picture below, Tyler held the gun while Carson fired the igniter. Carson was pretty tickled with himself that he was able to twist the lighting flint fast enough to get a good spark and launch the potato. If you are in possession of a y-chromosome and have never experienced a potato gun (aka, a spud gun), you are missing out. There are all sorts of designs out there, but the only I’ve ever seen/used uses hairspray as the propellant. The design we used is out of a book called Backyard Ballistics , which I highly recommend (we also attempted to launch some Cincinnati Fire Kites…but the weather was just a bit too warm for them to really work).

And, what would the farm be without fire? Benton continued his daily ritual of heading out to stoke the coals from the prior night into a roaring flame. Fortunately, I’d ordered a replacement hand-crank blower in time for the trip.

Meg was a close second to Tyler when it came to Alana’s affections. We spent a couple of hours down at the river on Sunday, netting crawfish and minnows. Alana attached herself to Meg (and Meg’s water shoes). And, Meg obliged her by helping her catch various critters.

I’ll cover the two big adventures/events of the weekend in the next post.