The winter wind bites today. The sun is sly. It is a ploy. There is no warmth. Inside the children are nestled in their beds for an afternoon nap. George to, after a long week, rests with a book of poetry. The dryer tumbles clothes around and the smell of a smoked pork (finishing in the over) permeates the house. It is beautiful. It is perfectly Saturday. Our co-op met here this week. It was perfectly as it should have been. Chaotic, energetic, fun, and colorful. Monday, I didn't even think of taking pictures, but on Friday I got some great ones. Here are a few . . .