Oh Where, Oh Where, Can My Knitting Bag Be?

The Grand Kids have been delivered to the transfer point and we are now on our own again. The house already seems too quiet.

We had tons of fun doing things like this

and this

and this.

I introduced them to Anne Of Green Gables, the movie version and they jumped - a 'K-Zillion' times - off Thornbury's pier into Georgian Bay. They waded into the Beaver River to gather the non-winning ducks from the annual summer-fest duck race and bounced themselves silly on a friend's trampoline.

But not one speck of knitting was accomplished. In fact, at the moment, I don't even know where my knitting bag might be. I am sure it will start to call my name soon.