The View From Down Undah

Everything was going so well.

We had been having ourselves a late July weekend for the ages -- this has been one *hell* of a July, my peoples -- and we were back home on a Sunday afternoon after seeing so many friends and doing so many things, and eating and drinking and swimming in our clothes -- and all of a sudden I heard a sort of half-cackle, half-"Whoa!!", full-on-hilarious-belly-laugh . . .

. . . coming from somewhere in the Gahdens.

There is a reason the Gahdens are so lush and full and flowering and beautiful: We live in Camelot. It rains at night and is beautifully sunny in the day and everything is perfect . . .

. . . except the ground is soaked . . .

 . . . and the decorative chairs from Mom? Well, their legs tend to sink down into the earth . . .

And Mistah? Well, the full-on-belly-laugh was coming from him, I was pretty sure . . . but I couldn't quite figure out from exactly where it was coming . . .

. . . and then I found him . . .

Mistah was *down*.

"Bring me the camera!" he bellowed . . .

. . . oh I brought him the camera all right . . .

. . . and I brought my own, too.

This is a man clearly dedicated to his craft . .  .

. . . and he had quite a view from Down Undah . . .

. . . and me? . . .

. . . I lorded over the world from Up Ovah.