wait a minute,

wasn’t there supposed to be FALL inbetween summer and winter? The snow looks beautiful on the mountains and all, but wow, that was an about face.

We didn’t actually get snow on the ground today in my neighborhood, it just was rainy and sleety and cold. It’s supposed to be nice again by next week. I’m just not sure my plants can handle the seasonal schizophrenia. It doesn’t really bother me, I’m still enamored with the novelty of seasons after living so long in the land of eternal summer. Feel free to remind me of this next February when I’m sick to death of winter. It was deliciously ironic that today was the last day of summer.

In honor of the first day of fall tomorrow, snow or not, I thought I would take you with me on a trip. To the pumpkin patch…

We went last Friday, when it actually was still summer. In fact, she complained about how the shirt was too hot. She roamed through the entire patch several times, but came back repeatedly to that particular pumpkin. She even attempted to roll several of them, because we’ve been reading Pumpkin Moonshine a lot lately (the little girl in the book rolls a pumpkin down the hill and it runs away. One of our favorites).

And how about an additional detour down memory lane?

Gah! Look at all the chub! I can hardly stand it. Sniff, sniff.

Here’s to a fantastic fall! You can be sure to find me appreciating any beautiful weather from here on out.

In a former life…

 

While I was perusing the Goodwill a while back (I love the Goodwill), I found this 80′s sheet set that just cried out to be made into something more lovable. So here you have it, along with a memory to go with it.

When I was a little girl, every Sunday after church was “coffee” at my grandparents’ house. Lots of aunts and uncles and cousins would be there for coffee and the sweets to go with it. Many times another cousin and I would get to stay and eat Sunday lunch (we called it dinner). Eating Sunday dinner with them was a special treat and usually when you ate you wore a smock over your good Sunday clothes (especially if you forgot to bring your playclothes with you). My grandmother had bunches of them and it was always fun to pick one out.

I had forgotten all about the smocks until about a year ago when I started hunting for things to protect the dutchkid’s clothes. I asked my mother if she knew what had happened to them, but it remains a mystery. They were probably donated or thrown away. After my grandmother passed away, I remember my mom and aunts going through the house and sorting all of the stuff that inevitably has to be gone through. We did get to pick things we would like to have, but at that time (I was in high school) smocks weren’t on my radar screen. I do have a few things that I treasure.

So I had to make this pattern up as I went along. There are smock patterns out there, but not quite how I wanted to make this one (I just had to use those ruffles on the shoulder). It makes me smile when the dutchkid wears it, thinking about my grandma.

There are places I remember…

Lately I’ve been singing the Beatles again, surely you know how it goes?

“…all my life, though some have changed.

Some forever, not for better.

Some have gone, but some remain.

All these places had their moments

With lovers and friends I still can recall…”

Today I am feeling just a little bit sad. We received the first “parting gift” today. It was from our Sunday school class at church. It made me realize that somehow, we managed to form some sort of attachment here. It’s really a testimony to how welcoming the people are. I’ve talked about my detachment a little bit before, it takes quite a bit to penetrate that hardened “I’m only living here for a few years” mentality that I have developed over the past 10 years.

With our house now under contract, I am mourning a bit the loss of the place where my daughter had so many “firsts”. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t want to stay here. In fact this is low on my list of places I would ever like to return to. This town doesn’t even have a Target and don’t get me started on the lack of culture (unless you count the redneck cultural experience that is the Piggly Wiggly). But I will never be able to say to the dutchkid, “I first saw you walk for the first time right here.” Having spent my childhood in the same town, almost the same house, it has been hard to come to that realization.

I’ve had terribly itchy feet for the past 6 months and it’s definitely time to go. However, I have to begrudgingly admit that as much as I love it, the nomadic life does get to me sometimes.