A few things that won't fit in our bags and boxes

I spent yesterday packing ten boxes to mail home. I packed the books we couldn't bear to part with, along with Bill's headlamp, Grace's craft supplies, and all six of Abigail's American Girl dolls. None of it is worth the money we paid to la Poste to mail it home for us, but it's all stuff we would rather not live without.

But some things won't fit in our bags and boxes to go home. So I took the camera around the house to make a record of the things I don't want to forget:



The enormous earthen pots of herbs growing just outside the front door,



The key to Diesel Liesel, best damn car on the planet: my trusty companion, navigator, and fellow traveler for eight happy months,



The t-shirt Abigail wore nonstop, even when it wasn't such a perfect day,



The small ceramic platter with the scary warning, on which she kept her barrettes,



The enormous housekey,



The big stacks of cookbooks and serving bowls (Ripailles, published en français, is coming home in one of the ten boxes.)



The oils, salts and spices sitting on a piece of marble next to the stove where I learned to cook,



Wildflowers bunched in Bill's hand, (we are taking the hand back with us),



Just a few of the books I read during the cold months of winter,



And the little piles of fresh herbs Abigail is always leaving around the house.