Creepy Houses and Turtles

One sad fact about our new neighborhood is that there aren't any public playgrounds. Possibly, this will put a crimp in my blogging theme. That doesn't mean we don't get out anymore: one night after work this week, the boys and I set out to see an old creepy house that my friend Marc had showed me.

We stopped along the way so the boys could show me their impressive strength:

We cut through a new sub to get to this old road:

Henry, apparently not having caught the gravel riding bug, was wishing he'd brought his mountain bike.

We bushwhacked to the creepy house:

Henry wouldn't go any closer to it, but Sam wanted to peak inside:

Sam asked, "Can we go in?" No.

On the way home, we stopped for a Milky Way break:

and then a pleasant cruise home. We did about eight miles, and Henry did just fine on his new(ish) Trek hybrid. It's possible my eldest may turn into a road biker more than a mountain biker. That's fine, too.

The next night, I had to pick up Kate from an after school play date back in Dublin. Of course, I rode, taking the long way there and rolling through the Metro Park on the way home. We stopped when we spotted this little turtle:

and I began teaching Kate the important life skill of  how to drink from a bike bottle:

The water mostly hit her shirt on the first try, but she improved. We'll get more practice this summer, since we'll have to ride farther to get to any playground.

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