When I look back at Raccoon's childhood, perhaps if his kids ask me for stories about when their dad was little, I want to remember Frank. The avocado. Raccoon found him (it?) yesterday in a friend's yard and brought him home. Upon hearing that we could not eat it yet because it wasn't ripe, he named it, made a home for it, and turned it into a pet, much to the delight of his entire Sunday School class this morning. I love Raccoon's joy and how he builds a world for anyone in need. Habitats, cushy avocado rides with seat belts, whatever needs doing he'll find a way. Upon completion, he's off to the next thing.
This afternoon, as Frank's novelty was waning, we drove up to a local volcanic park (not the erupting one!). A small cafe was open with a gorgeous view. The lake in the picture is supposedly 200 meters deep in the middle. On the drive home, I couldn't get over how much material the volcano had deposited in the hilly country. It must have been some explosion, long ago.