Saturday night, we went to a Travs game with some old friends who came for a Labor-Day visit. We spread out quilts on the berm and I spent most of the game watching my little boy’s legs churn as he ran from one end to the other and listening to my daughter’s gleeful shouts of, “You’re it!”

During the fireworks, we sprawled on our backs, still full from barbecue, bratwurst, nachos and beer, and watched the show in a contented daze.

Yesterday, Hubs and I took the kids to Pinnacle Mountain, one of our favorite fall spots.

At the E-man’s insistence, we hiked to the top. Gorgeous weather, gorgeous view. It had been several years since I climbed Pinnacle. On that ascent, I took the Mollydog. I can’t wait to do the same with Daisy.

Me and my girl.

Yesterday, on our way down, Tootie and I spotted a guy with what appeared to be a wolf.

“He’s 98 percent,” the man said, after I noted the gold eyes. “It’s that other 2 percent that makes him legal.”

The encounter thrilled my little animal-loving girl to no end. She spent the rest of the rest of the day telling everyone that she had petted a wolf.

It’s been a perfect holiday weekend. We’ve spent most of it outdoors, which, after this hot, lethargic summer, felt ever so liberating.

And today still stretches out before us …