Our Trip to the City of Trees...

The capitol sits just in front of some of the greatest memories we have as a family

Susie, A sister at heart, loves my little ones. And I love hers (though they aren't so little any more)

I'm a photo taker on vacation. But not this vacation. Full of people we love and time spent relaxing with them, our trip to the old Boise neighborhood does not come with a photo essay.

But I could write an essay of friendship over the passing of time, and how it can deepen when it begins with great people like those of Hobble Creek. Too many to name, the women of our old neighborhood stand supreme in my mind as women not born to be blood but whose love and friendship has made us sisters. It is not often that one can sit down with people she knew long ago and feel that she had just spoken with them yesterday. Though distance separates, these fine friends remain dear and true and ever kind and loving toward me and mine.

The kids loved being smothered by Jenna, whose home we shared for the long weekend. She has come to share our home with us, and it was only fitting that we stay with her and her family. Susie, Jenna's mom, had played party planner extradorninaire; allowing her home to be invaded by dozens of old friends (and young children!) for days at a time. Jenna's sister Corrine and brother Ridge were like family to my children-an extension of cousins or aunts and uncles that mean the world to them.

My heart is a little too tender to express any more detail. I love Hobble Creek and think of it with fondness and nostalgia. It was the place for my finest physical hour (the RUSH triathlon) and the seedbed for the bringing of Lucy and Molly into our lives forever. It was a "Leave it to Beaver" time in our family when dad came home before dinner and coached soccer and led boy scouts. It was a season of rest and a time of deepening faith. I learned how to hear the whisperings of the Holy Ghost in the house where we once lived. John and I traveled on the longest journey we've had alone through the course of our marriage from there; leaving our kids with a capable grandma and reveling in the beauties of Hawaii. I learned to garden in Boise. And became brave enough to share myself and my home at the drop of a hat for any gathering from craft fairs to girls night out. It was a magical place because we, a budding family, began to bloom in the fertile soil of the "city of trees."

Thanks to our dear friends, the Johnsons, for hostessing us. And thanks to all our Hobble creek family, for loving us tho we have strayed from your midst. Coming there feels like coming home.