I love going home for a visit.
It will be 50 years, next summer, they have been in this house. I started first grade that fall (1964).
Now I go back a couple of times a year. I timed it right this year. Dad's tomatoes were ripe and ready to eat.
I ate my weight in tomato sandwiches. Mom had never had one, and she was surprised she didn't miss the lettuce and bacon. We put a thick slice of peeled ripe tomato between two skinny slices of white bread each smoothed with a bit of mayonaise; don't try to slip any damn Miracle Whip in there. See? Easy and delicious. No bacon needed.
Dad made pizza one night, salmon the next.
Dad ended up making two cherry pies while I was there. I was on a diet. A cherry pie diet.I am very sorry I don't have a photo of the grilled okra. Dad impaled individual okra on bamboo skewers, brushed them with clarified butter and grilled them until roasty. Man, oh, man, okra heaven.
Bird houses are everywhere you look in the garden. When Mom and I walked out back to the studio, we were stalked by a very angry wren.
She was scolding us and flitting from place to place. We never figured out where her nest was (although I did find a nest, she didn't ever go near it).
She can certainly take her pick of bird houses.
Next week I will post photos of the quilts Mom sent back to Atlanta with me.