S lights a fire with a box of matches we found on a grave. Is that sacreligious? Regardless: burn, baby, burn!
S's mommy decided to be helpful and gather firewood, but in her industry ended up taking a little tumble on this hill. Look at how helpful he is!
A view from the picnic spot. Lovely, lovely, lovely!
Hehe. A police beat box. If you're American, you probably have a very different picture come to mind when you hear this phrase. I'm totally thinking of all the white boys trying to be ghetto dawgs -- and of all those damned a cappella groups at Northwestern.
And, for your viewing pleasure, S captures a picture of me befriending a nice cow. The cow doesn't seem to like me as much as I like him.