Grandma’s garden. Lush, fruitful. So different from ours. Sandy soil perfect for potatoes, although she grows stones and pebbles like nobody else. You can pull the weeds without watering to soft the soil first. It tills so easily. It’s like butter.
It feels like we’ve hardly been home this summer and I hate it. I love being “home.” I need time to just ‘be’ in my own home with the laziness that comes with stereotypical summer. But we’ve traveled to NC to visit family, visited the beach, traveled to NC again, spent a week going back and forth to Greensboro for basketball camp, I went to Appomattox to give a little photography talk, and then back to NC AGAIN to visit family… I spend the few days we are back home trying to get things unpacked from the trip long enough to just pack it all back up and doing it again. The kids love spending so much time at Nana and Pop’s but I must confess, I just wanna go home.
I was more than disappointed when we tried to attend the hot air balloon festival. The balloons were no where to be found. I guess the wind conditions weren’t favorable and that meant everyone had to wait it out. She didn’t mind though. I have heard her say, more than once, that this day is the best ever. Her positive outlook is so contagious. I admire her ability to find joy in the everyday and to proclaim that joy for the world to hear. She didn’t care about the balloons. Instead she turned this evening into an adventure watching the helicopters, eating cake and enjoying life!
We look forward to the arrival of wild raspberries and our subsequent “raspberry walk” every summer. The timing can get tricky and some years we’ve missed the berries completely if we happened to be away the few days that they are ready. We grab our bowl, walk through the neighborhood, and are ready to climb into whatever brush to collect as many as we can. We usually leave the ones that aren’t ready for next time, but for some reason we rarely do more than one raspberry walk per season. For all our efforts, there is a meaningful harvest but it never seems like enough. These berries are more tart and flavorful than their supermarket counterparts and we savor every one.
It started out with riding bikes through the sprinkler and ended with a full-on “bike wash.”
Today she is twelve.
10,000 hours – the time it takes to become an expert. I haven’t been keeping track, but I’m pretty sure he’s got to be close.