A funny thing happens every time Kristine and I spent the 4th of July holiday together. We run into turtles. Turtles. Like the animals who hide in their shells.
Last year, we did a u-turn on the highway when we saw turtles wondering around a cemetery. I kid you not. They were taking a walk through a cemetery.
This year, we were on the opposite side of the country when we ran into this guy in the park:
He was significantly smaller than the ones we saw in North Carolina last year. I suppose a park is a more acceptable place to come across a turtle. Not that it's a daily sighting. Turtles aren't exactly native to these mountains. But at least no one had to worry about him eating the flowers off the headstones.