Every year, the Baptist church in town hosts a Christmas celebration, with carols, a little animal-petting thing, a big display on the true meaning of Christmas, some crafts, and a nice alternative to Santa photos. And, unlike most Santa photos, the photographer had no objection to my taking a photo as well. His photo cost $5, which I got, but I can't send that to relatives, so I took my own photos as well. So... photos!
This is the Nativity scene. Mark is Joseph, Gracey is Mary, and Beth is a Wise... Person. Thinking of a reference from Riana of These Days in French Life - une sage femme?
My photos seem to have loaded in reverse order, and I really couldn't be bothered correcting it. Here is Bethy colouring her bookmark. You can also see a star in the foreground - the 3 crafts were: colour a bookmark, glue and decorate a star, and there was some bell cut-out-and-fit-together dealie at the other table. We didn't get to that.
Gracie colouring. That dress was bought that very day, without her available for sizing. It fits well.
This shirt was also bought that day. I don't know if you can see it, but its the Black Watch tartan pattern (aka Campbell tartan.) Not that we're Scots (or at least, not much) but it's a lovely pattern, and he loves the look and feel of it. And it brings out his lovely pale complexion (roll-eyes.) The kids actually do get outside, just not in the heat of the day. I don't like sunburn on anyone, especially not children. We usually kick them out somewhere between 3pm and 5pm, depending on the heat of the day. It was bright enough for playing until about 6.45pm today. I should know, I was doing work on the tanks at that time.
Here's Bethy petting a (rack brains for name) Barred Plymouth Rock chicken. Purty! er... Both of them, actually. I just have a thing for the Barred Plymouth Rock chooks. Although, I also like ... er ... Golden somethings. I've forgotten.
It took me all my effort to get Gracey to touch the sheep. I don't know why, but she seemed to have decided that they were dangerous creatures bent on biting her. This her smile-for-mummy smile. Note the dutiful pat on the sheep's rear. Couldn't get her near the chickens, though.
A Pen Licence
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