For me, I treasure memories. Sometimes to the point of sadness. I treasure my southern heritage and the simple things left behind by my mom and dad....
I treasure this photo. The last photo ever taken of my mom when she was still able to help in the kitchen. The last batch of potatoes she was able to prepare ~
Memories of my dad creating acorn pipes. When I was a little girl, my family would venture out to "The Apple Orchards" every Autumn. To me, it was a magical place that smelled of warm fall leaves, country air and bear poop. (Yes, I said bear poop). We would picnic under the big oak trees. After lunch, my dad would search out the biggest and smoothest acorns and the straightest sticks to create these little pipes for me. He would cut off the tops with his pocket-knife, clean out the inside....make a wee little hole for the stick and, just like that, I had a pipe. I have quite a collection of pipes, actually...but this photo shows the last pipe my dad ever made. He made it for my son ~
A single lace glove, worn by my grandmother....many, many years ago ~
Recipes for southern goodness....Fried Green Tomatoes ~
Chicken Pie ~
....and Boysenberry Pie ~
Taste, smell, sound....built in senses that rush memories through your heart and mind. Cutting and healing both at the same time.
The sound of a distant lawn mower conjures an image of my dad, slowly, meticulously mowing the big back yard of my childhood home. My dad...the sensible guy who loved grape Kool-Aid on a hot summer afternoon ~
Treasures....memories. The last quilt my mom hand-stitched. Never finished ~
The needle is still in the same place she left it ~
There are new treasures too...not just childhood goodness and memories.
Breakfast....fresh from the tree on an already overly hot morning ~
Loyal and true....Morning Glory. Growing, growing, growing up and over her familiar arbor ~
There are quiet treasures and memories all over our Everydays. Some are embedded in our skin, in our bones like a piece of our body and soul. Some are carefree and fun and easy. Some are colorful and new.
A new memory a new treasure...a confetti of color ~ this bouquet given to my daughter by the sweetest of friends. A memory forever, long after the colors have wilted ~
What is it about a hot summer day that makes me remember? Makes me thankful for memories, old and new? Every muscle and pore and sense remembers and treasures on these days, these summer days that drag and fly all at once.
Until Next Time:
Kim
Gerushia's New World
