Summer is here, and boy is it chaotic at my house. Unfortunately, my WIP has taken a detour as other events take its place on my list of priorities. If I get two-thousand words in a day, I consider myself lucky. I find that I have to slow myself down and enjoy the finer details of this time of year, even if some days I feel like my kids have stolen my mind.
Some of my favorite things (besides my fam, of course) are right outside my doorstep. The sunshine is my true beloved. It can definitely perk up my day. This morning in the ol neighborhood the birds are chirping merrily, childrens' laughter is in abundance, the sound of the light breeze swirling through the trees mixes with the whirling engine of a mower.
I'm also a Farmer's Market fan. Not much can compare to fresh fruits and vegetables. Bright red tomatoes, watermelons that are almost too big for me to carry, sweet corn, and an array of jellies and jams.
My grandmother made pickled corn. She'd fill large crocks with corn and other ingredients and place them in the cellar until the corn was pickled to her liking. I'm not sure she had a time frame, but she just knew when it was ready. It's a memory I'll never forget. It was a treat to gather around as she'd lift the lid. The pungent smell of her corn filled the room. The first bite was always the winner. My mouth waters at the mere thought. I'd love to have some of her special corn right now. My aunt was the only one who had corn that came close to grandma's.
My grandpa would buy watermelon, cut it into moon shape pieces and hand them out to me and my cousins. We had the best time spitting the black seeds as far as we could. It was a skill that took practice.
Watching my children ride bikes transports me back to my days when my friends and I would spend hours riding our pink Huffy's. Mine was a special one indeed with its fine detailing, basket and horn. We rode like the wind. I still ride today, but I no longer have a pink bike, and it's just not the same. Oh how I miss my childhood friends.
The beach. Awwww...a place of refuge. I could wake up every morning to sound of the gentle waves and still never get enough. My two fave times: sunrise and sunset.
Cooking out with family is like a reunion of souls. Cooking outdoors is a rite of passage for my dearest. He seems right at home above the grill. I'm not a griller myself, but find much delight in watching him. I could swear it reminds me of a warrior holding his blade how he wields his grilling tools. I don't believe I'll ever understand the mind set behind this, but I don't have to. It's enough to know it's a pleasure for the one I love.
I hope everyone can tiptoe through their history and find memories that can never be replaced. What's most important though, make memories now that can be carrried down. Splash in the sprinkler, squirt water guns, ride in a tire swing, take your child's bike for a spin, fly a kite, eat watermelon and see who can spit the seeds the farthest. Enjoy the relaxing times.
Some of my favorite things (besides my fam, of course) are right outside my doorstep. The sunshine is my true beloved. It can definitely perk up my day. This morning in the ol neighborhood the birds are chirping merrily, childrens' laughter is in abundance, the sound of the light breeze swirling through the trees mixes with the whirling engine of a mower.
I'm also a Farmer's Market fan. Not much can compare to fresh fruits and vegetables. Bright red tomatoes, watermelons that are almost too big for me to carry, sweet corn, and an array of jellies and jams.
My grandmother made pickled corn. She'd fill large crocks with corn and other ingredients and place them in the cellar until the corn was pickled to her liking. I'm not sure she had a time frame, but she just knew when it was ready. It's a memory I'll never forget. It was a treat to gather around as she'd lift the lid. The pungent smell of her corn filled the room. The first bite was always the winner. My mouth waters at the mere thought. I'd love to have some of her special corn right now. My aunt was the only one who had corn that came close to grandma's.
My grandpa would buy watermelon, cut it into moon shape pieces and hand them out to me and my cousins. We had the best time spitting the black seeds as far as we could. It was a skill that took practice.
Watching my children ride bikes transports me back to my days when my friends and I would spend hours riding our pink Huffy's. Mine was a special one indeed with its fine detailing, basket and horn. We rode like the wind. I still ride today, but I no longer have a pink bike, and it's just not the same. Oh how I miss my childhood friends.
The beach. Awwww...a place of refuge. I could wake up every morning to sound of the gentle waves and still never get enough. My two fave times: sunrise and sunset.
Cooking out with family is like a reunion of souls. Cooking outdoors is a rite of passage for my dearest. He seems right at home above the grill. I'm not a griller myself, but find much delight in watching him. I could swear it reminds me of a warrior holding his blade how he wields his grilling tools. I don't believe I'll ever understand the mind set behind this, but I don't have to. It's enough to know it's a pleasure for the one I love.
I hope everyone can tiptoe through their history and find memories that can never be replaced. What's most important though, make memories now that can be carrried down. Splash in the sprinkler, squirt water guns, ride in a tire swing, take your child's bike for a spin, fly a kite, eat watermelon and see who can spit the seeds the farthest. Enjoy the relaxing times.
Rhonda......every year on my Grandmother's birthday in August we would gather for a reunion. There was always lots of good food, cold drinks iced in galvanized tubs, and most important...guitars and music. Visiting with all the cousins. The last horah before we went back to school. Thanks for reminding me :)
ReplyDeleteThnx, Sherri. Those sound like very good memories.I remember the reunions my fam would have. Very good times. Maybe the only chance for all of us to get together during the year.
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