When we pulled alongside Dave’s car in North Battleford, Don was grinning excitedly as he looked through the window at us. We loaded the boys and their gear into the van and headed for home.

“I wasn’t quite ready to leave Poppa’s,” Don said, but the smile on his face told a different story. Both of them were happy and had stories to tell about their holiday, and were obviously looking forward to getting home again.

I was fighting the neck thing, so took a pill and climbed in the furthest-back seat to lay down. Every once in a while I’d feel Barney’s hand on my shoulder or my head as he’d turn around, apparently to comfort me.

After an hour or so, the pill had done its job and I moved up into the front seat again, but left Loverboy driving, as the drug makes me too groggy for safety. It had started to rain by this time.

For part of the way we could see the kelly green of new leaves popping out all over the place. Closer to home, though, there was more grey in the trees. This may be because there’s been no rain here yet, to speak of. I fear another dry year.

This morning we awoke to an outside world covered by wet snow, so once more the yard is mucky and wet. I went out for a short walk in it. The air was mild and the water was dripping off the trees so fast it sounded like a light rain falling. I took the camera along but could not bear to take one more picture of snow this year. I’ve had enough of it.