After being lazy on the porch swing for a while (see the first post), John took me up to the top of the hill where (someone? a relative of his, I'm assuming, but it's frustrating that all these people remember me and my name, and I have no idea who any of them are because you meet them all ONCE and then they know you because you're only one person, but how can I remember them all??? gah!) has a house on acres and acres of land (40-something, I think? I really can't remember what John's dad told me... I'm obviously bad at this whole "remembering" thing.) I didn't get a picture of the house (d'oh) that was brought in from New Orleans in the 1800s. But I was in love with this barn and how secluded it was up there. We couldn't walk around much because the fields hadn't been mowed down for the year yet, so we couldn't walk around without long pants, and we were both wearing shorts. We did get to see some wild turkeys, though (in the woods, so it was too dark to get a picture)
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