Why don't you go ahead and tell Alice it's time to go home

We had dinner at our friends' farm a few weekends back to celebrate their birthdays. I had a lovely talk with one of our hostesses about their beehives, which were just a few dozen paces from where we ate supper in the yard. Jane and Henry were enamoured with the chickens pecking and scratching behind the barn.

Alice was more a fan of the hammocks, of which they had three suspended between trees in the shady side yard. Here she is about ten minutes after I told her we would be leaving in five.

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