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In my opinion, there is not much that can compete with the joy of holding a six-week old baby. Isha is feminine, tiny and perfect. I washed our clothes yesterday but was careful to leave out the shirt that smells like her. It was hard to say goodbye to she and my sister.

At the same time, it was wonderful coming home to my guys, and to the newest blossoms from the farm:Today, Gillen, Jesse and I finally had a quiet day at home. I have been fully appreciating all that these eight and eleven year old boys are about. No more intoxicating essence coming from the top of their heads, but it is nice to sometimes know what they are wanting/thinking. I did not take my camera to Montana but my sister let me take a few with her's and will be sending me a CD. I'll get to wax poetic about Isha then.