Dear Bill,

It's been almost three months since I talked with you so I thought I'd write a letter and let you know how things were going around here. I miss you everyday, all day long.  I'm always remembering little things that I want to tell you about.  I guess I still can.

The kids are doing pretty well.  Madeline is still working quite a lot and saving her money to start school in the fall.  She's leaning towards studying journalism--you know how good she is at writing so that's a perfect choice.   She's also in the middle of a bedroom redo that is going to require a trip to IKEA. I know how much you love IKEA.   She brought the bed you made for her back inside.  It still looks good and it's held up just fine.  You did a nice job!  Jack is busy, as usual.  He just modified the green trailer with new rails so he can haul more wood in it.  Yesterday he got up on the roof and cleaned the chimney for us.  Baseball seems to be good, though he's still hitting on the top of the ball or too far under it.  He's played flawlessly in center, never missing a ball.  He steps out of the box when the pitcher's taking too long, just like you taught him.  Gilly saw him do it and approved.  He weed-whacked around your grave tonight so it looks tidy.  I think he remembers all that you taught him.  Jon started ball too.  He's totally into it this year, as much as Jon can be.  He loves that Minecraft game and is always rambling on about his newest building projects.  It's all foreign to me!  He helped me spread bark dust out front by the mailbox today.  He's also dreaming about the little motorbike that Jonathan gave  him.  I'll make sure he's careful with it.  Oh, and there's still Legos all over the house.  And Sarah.  She's still Sarah.  She started playing T-ball tonight.  Please don't be mad that I'm letting her play.  She really wanted to.  She won't leave my side right now, not even in the mornings when I go out to feed the animals.  Or when I get up to go potty at night.  Or when I take the laundry out to the furnace room.  She said she's afraid I'll leave  her.  Pretty understandable, right?  I'm trying to be patient with her, but you know how hard patience is for me.  Oh, and she's reading really well.   Hasn't lost anymore teeth yet.  She's sleeping next to me right now.

Your dumb cow isn't pregnant.  She's faulty, just like your white chickens from Tractor Supply.  I think Bud will work some of his magic on her soon and there will hopefully be a calf next spring.  I know you were hoping for a calf this year.  We got 5 new chicks to replace the current ladies.  Red Leghorns and Wellsummers, I think.  I've got them in the little coop you built last year.  Once the weather gets warmer I'll move them out of the Fire Hall and next to the big coop.  I guess I'll have to learn how to butcher now.  Gross.  Remember your discussion with John about bees?  Well, he brought over a new hive and is going to split the bees he caught in the orchard last summer for us.  I know how you always wanted bees.  I'm a little nervous about it but I guess I'll learn about bees now too.  Vader and Cricket are good.  Cricket is loving farm life and keeps up with us when we hike.  Karl is still living in the woodshed eating various vermin.  Sarah helps me take care of all the animals in the mornings.  A real farm girl.

I'm working on getting things crossed off your list.  I spread two yards of mulch today but probably need about four more to get everything covered.  Brian delivered it.  We talked about baseball and Shannon sent a pie.  Dan is coming next week to install that darn fan in the bathroom.  I'll try to get the pond redone sometime this summer.  And, yes, I'll clean the fence.  I know how you hate for it to be so filthy.

I'm not baking anymore.  Well, that's not entirely true.  I made a lemon meringue pie last weekend but ended up throwing the leftovers away today.  There's just no one to eat any of that stuff.  At least not with the same gusto that you did.  My cookie jar sits empty now.  Sorry.

I'm going to have to clean out your side of the closet.  I'm not looking forward to that chore.  I hope you don't mind that I'm going to cut up all of your clothes (even your favorite Filson vest) and make quilts for all the kids with the fabric.  I'm even going to use your nasty old bathrobe!  I might keep that one Pendleton shirt though because it still smells like you.  Remember when your Grandma gave you Grandpa Bill's underwear?  Maybe I should give yours to someone.  Maybe not.

Sometimes I get mad at you for leaving me here by myself with so much responsibility and so much work.  I worry that I'm doing things wrong and that I can't possibly be an adequate replacement for you.  I'm afraid I'll mess things up.  You know I wasn't supposed to do this on my own, right?  What I wouldn't give to have you here, making your messes and talking about your politics and listening to your operas.  I'd love to hear you snore or read one of your dorky stories to me.   There are so many things we didn't ever get to do.  I get pretty sad about it all.  But, I still get up in the morning and I still laugh at off color jokes.  I still work hard and try hard and hope to make you proud.  It's just hard.

I love you.
Julie

P.S. Ruger loves your hat and wears it every day.  That makes me smile and I know it makes you smile too.