It's About Time...

...for a

We might be crazy, but our family actually thinks it's fun to spend time together in the car going places. There is as much joy in the journey as there is in reaching the final destination. And it's a good thing we all get along, because over the Labor Day weekend, we loaded up the rental car, bid a fond farewell to Bartholomew and Jemima, and hit the road. Destination: Grandpa's house!

Hooray for duct tape!

Mr. Smith and the two older Smithlings had a four-day weekend. Our youngest only had a three-day weekend. No problem! We pulled Millie out of school for day #5 of the new school year, so she, too, could make the trek to see Grandpa. We were not about to leave a thirteen-year-old home alone for a l-o-n-g weekend.  Although, I must say that there have been times I would have considered doing so...
Not really.
No, REALLY...
No, I'm just joking. I think.

After fifteen hours on the road, we rolled into rural Shelburn in time for a late dinner. (Thank you, Daddy! The steaks were grilled to perfection.) We drove in rain throughout most of Missouri and Illinois, compliments of the remains of Hurricane Isaac. Normally the drive from TX to IN takes fourteen hours, but this time the weather definitely slowed us down a bit. 

It was DEFINITELY worth all the hours of driving in the rain to get a Grandpa hug!

Here are more photos of time well spent:

Seeing double

Time for reflection

Shakamak State Park is a mere 15 minutes from my Dad's house. Oh, there are so many memories that were made here; happy times from my childhood of family picnics, beautiful fall foliage, hikes, church camp, etc.

 Easily amused...

Hoosier Beauty

Sadly, it was not yet time for fall colors. Oh, how I'd love to come back in a few weeks to see the change in scenery and enjoy the sights and smells of fall.  If you use your imagination, there seems to be a slight tinge of orange on the tree in the right side of the photo. Wishful thinking?

Time for new shades?

We took time out to stop for a chocolate dipped crunch cone (340 calories of deliciousness) and a walk down memory lane...We treat you right! 

Anytime we are in the Hoosier state, there is always time to play euchre. The kids have realized that whoever teams up with Grandpa will be on the winning team. No cheating is allowed! Or at least we think there is no cheating. A good time was had by all; even the losers had fun.


All good things must come to an end. Moments before we hit the road, I snapped a couple of "timely" pictures to help tell my tale.

This is one of the clocks at my dad's house. It was originally my grandfather's grandfather clock, and now it is Dad's. Normally when we visit, we have to silence the chimes so everyone sleeps without being awakened by the striking of each hour, quarter-hour, and half-hour; however, this visit, we let 'em ring. And I slept! There was only one night when I awoke to hear the clock strike four bells. It was a familiar, comforting sound. Oh, the bells, bells, bells! The ringing was comforting until I started trying to remember "The Bells" by Edgar Allen Poe. The mind thinks about crazy things in a half-awake state. I couldn't recall much of what I had committed to memory as a high school student, so I soon gave up my futile exercise.

Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Runic rhyme,
To the tintinnabulation that so musically wells
From the bells, bells, bells, bells,
Bells, bells, bells -
From the jingling and the tinkling of the bells.

Before I drifted back to sleep, my thoughts shifted from bells to Grandpa Thompson and his clock. He was always so proud of his timepiece, and he took good care of it. Grandpa would wear soft cloth gloves as he lifted the weights to wind the clock, as he didn't want the oils from his skin to cause the brass to tarnish. I guess he literally had time on his hands each time he wound his clock! 

My grandfather bought the grandfather clock sometime when I was in elementary school -- I do not remember exactly what year it was. I do know that he had owned the clock for many years before I told him something he didn't know about his clock.

The Latin phrase "Tempus Fugit" is inscribed at the top of the clock. During my Freshman year of high school, as I was taking first-year Latin, I learned what the phrase meant. I shared with my granddad that his clock said, "Time flees" if translated literally. I told him that he could just say that it meant "Time flies." Sadly, that phrase and a few others are all I remember from two years of Latin class. My grandpa thought that I was the most clever fourteen-year-old. And he was proud of learning Latin at his advanced age. Grandpa made a point of telling his visitors that I had taught him what his clock said, and then he would give the translation. 

Time flees, flies, and once it's flown, you cannot do anything to get it back. Tempus fugit!

So, why is it that time flies even faster when you're havin' fun? It just works that way, I suppose. Our weekend flew, so that should tell you that we had fun.