On Monday, I drove to Urbana with my father-in-law to pick up my sister-in-law and two of my brother-in-law’s kids. Urbana’s a picturesque place, and snapped pictures from the front passenger window. The main street running through the town is called Miami, and the road crosses The Great Miami River. On the way there, we passed a farm that my father-in-law said he’s always wanted, imagining that it stretches out for uninterrupted miles behind the hill in the background. He said he thinks the reality must be different from what he imagines, but likes the thought of it, anyway. On the way back, I saw a Cold-War era siren atop a volunteer fire department hall. Mansard roof on the square at Urbana. The city’s name inscribed across a railroad bridge as you drive in to town. Some other stuff.
Today I helped my father-in-law by pressure-washing the planter. Dirty, wet work. After we got cleaned up, we drove to Urbana to pick up my sister-in-law and a couple of my wife’s nephews. Here are some of the pictures I took this morning. The first two-hundred bucks gets that old plow.