I also cannot believe that this may be Primo's last year, and at the same time that we may have eight more years to go of 4-H in the parade. Trying to take it one year at a time at this point, because I am not doing well thinking too deeply about any of this.
We hit a pretty big snag on Saturday night when our truck went on a major fritz. For the past couple of years, my husband and our truck have been the tow for the club's float. Of course, being in a 4-H livestock club means you probably know a lot of other people who own trucks with hitches attached. Our former driver stepped up to the plate, and we were back in business.
To keep the photo-chronicle tradition going, Primo marched with Dusty again. (Our sheep were on the float, but I didn't manage any good pictures of the sheep or the float.)
Secondo carried the club banner, which has become his preferred station once Oreo retired from parade duties.
Terzo rode on the trailer with the sheep. Upon reflection, I don't think he has walked the whole parade route to this day. Typical third child. Why walk when someone can drive you?
Chickens in a decorated cage, just because.
A heartfelt thank you to everyone who served, most especially those who made the ultimate sacrifice. My gratitude is nowhere near enough.