I recently had a friend from back home come over and visit us for a few days and it was so nice to be able to get together and catch up. (Even while three rambunctious kiddos ran around like wild animals most of the time. Hehe.) She is incredibly talented; the type of person who has lots of hobbies and is quite adept at all of them. She can whip up all sorts of homemade jams and jellies and pickle just about any vegetable you give her. She takes incredible pictures because she "dabbles" in photograpy. She makes her own lotions and potions like the one she left with me called "Peach Verbena Cream". It is divine and I will be hoarding every last smidge that's in the bottle. She has an Etsy shop, Painted Timbre, where she creates custom hand painted wooden wall art. And they're amazing. Seriously. I already have a list a mile long of favorite verses that I *neeeed* her to create for me. God has given her the gift of creativity and she uses that gift extraordinarily. I'm blessed to consider her a dear friend. Her visit was like a breath of fresh air and a wave full of adult conversation. And for a SAHM, those are invaluable sometimes.
We spent three days laughing and talking and eating and catching up. We were both raised in rural parts of Louisiana so there was lots to reminisce about. For all intents and purposes, we were raised in the country. Where clotheslines were a staple in everyone's yards and your towels always smelled like sunshine. Where homegrown vegetables were on the menu 7 days a week and you didn't realize how much of a luxury that was until you moved away and had to buy storebought produce. Where meat came wrapped in white packaging with a "Not For Resale" stamp on it. Where picking blackberries taught you that somethings are just worth fighting for. Where a bush hog is used more often than a mower to cut grass. Where you measure your land in hundreds of acres. Where the roads are dirt, the trees are tall and the sky is huge. Where most times, cows outnumber people. Where the eggs are fresh. Where any animal is fair game when they're in your flower beds. Where you travel distance in time, not miles. Where food was cooked on gas stoves and in cast iron skillets. Where leaving the house for anything requires a trip into 'town'. And where we learned lessons we never knew we needed about living and loving and leaving. We've both moved away and started separate lives with our families away from our hometown heritage. We may live in cities now, but at the end of the day, we will always be grateful for the time we spent growing our roots and wings in the country.
We spent three days laughing and talking and eating and catching up. We were both raised in rural parts of Louisiana so there was lots to reminisce about. For all intents and purposes, we were raised in the country. Where clotheslines were a staple in everyone's yards and your towels always smelled like sunshine. Where homegrown vegetables were on the menu 7 days a week and you didn't realize how much of a luxury that was until you moved away and had to buy storebought produce. Where meat came wrapped in white packaging with a "Not For Resale" stamp on it. Where picking blackberries taught you that somethings are just worth fighting for. Where a bush hog is used more often than a mower to cut grass. Where you measure your land in hundreds of acres. Where the roads are dirt, the trees are tall and the sky is huge. Where most times, cows outnumber people. Where the eggs are fresh. Where any animal is fair game when they're in your flower beds. Where you travel distance in time, not miles. Where food was cooked on gas stoves and in cast iron skillets. Where leaving the house for anything requires a trip into 'town'. And where we learned lessons we never knew we needed about living and loving and leaving. We've both moved away and started separate lives with our families away from our hometown heritage. We may live in cities now, but at the end of the day, we will always be grateful for the time we spent growing our roots and wings in the country.
(wink.)
photo courtesy of Dusti Randall
(First beach visit of the season. The water was FREEZING.)
photo courtesy of Dusti Randall
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