Reveling in Fall Weather

Monday was a beautiful, cloudless day in Knoxville, where we were visiting my step-daughter Phoebe. We rode along with Chris since it was his weekend for visitation. Phobe taught us a new song that I guarantee you is not sung up north. The worst part is, she learned it in chorus at her school. The words went like this:

Well plant a watermelon on my grave and let the juice run through (slurp, slurp).
Just plant a watermelon on my grave and let the juice run through. (slurp, slurp)
Well chicken and biscuits are mighty, mighty fine
But there ain't nothin' like a watermelon rind
So just plant a watermelon on my grave and let the juice run through. (slurp slurp)

We sang this song in so many different ways. We made animal noises instead of slurping. We replaced the slurps with fart and belch noises. We sang it like country hicks and refined englishmen. We recorded it all and played it back so we could listen to ourselves.

In more mature news, we also visited the University of Tennessee Agriculture Park.