This past weekend was our towns festival to celebrate it's history. 'The Festival of the Little Hills'.
That's what St Charles use to be called. But it was in french. 'Les Petites Côtes'.
Then it got call, 'San Carlos del Misuri:'
But then English speakers got this part of the world and it became St Charles.
But anyway, we had our festival this past weekend. Daughter and I met up with a couple of her friends.
But before we met them we had a little time to look around.
Here hunting for babbles while holding a balloon.
First the craft tent.
This one the girls loved.
One grinder took the kernels off of the husks and the other ground it into meal.
I'm sure it could make quick work of fingers also.
But we were lucky.
"Hey!. Did one of you girls forget your shorts/"
And if she was lucky, it was in the kitchen.
"Hey! The bucket never gets empty!"
This will be the last time the girls want to do laundry till at least after college.
One doll size girl scout uniform for daughter, and one doll size gymnastic outfit for friend.
We went home and cooled off in the pool.
. . . pick up the canoe for this weekends, "Operation Clean Stream" which we will be helping at on Sat.
Now this is where the vulture comes in.
While checking on the buildings and looking around at projects I want to do this winter, I heard a noise in the barn/workshop/junk collection building. On the left side.
Went to look and low-and-behold (do they say that anymore?), there sat a turkey vulture.
And by the looks of his droppings, he had been there a while, and had no intention of moving anytime soon.
On the way home I stopped to check on mom and the garden and found that one of the neighbors pumpkins couldn't make up it's mind which yard it wanted to be in.