DH and I took my mother for her appointment with the eye doctor yesterday and our visit with her was really bittersweet. She turns 89 on her birthday this month and her memory is as sharp as a tack. I've been working on Family History for a few years and she has been an invaluable source of information.
After her appointment, we had lunch at Piccadilly's (her favorite place to eat), then we drove over to the old abandoned home we lived in when I was a child. My grandparents lived a stone's throw away from us and I recall many visits there, sitting on the front porch in one of the two rocking chairs and rocking to my heart's content.
The two pictures in this post are of the old white house my grandparents lived in and their barn that housed my grandfather's wagon and the fodder for the the mule. It is so grown up around it you can barely see the house. There is a gate barring entrance with a "No Trespassing" sign so I had to snap pictures from afar. My remembrance of my grandfather is of him whittling whiteoak and weaving baskets that were used by farmers to dump cotton in as they picked it in the cotton fields. I wish I pad pictures of this but I had no camera during those days.
Tomorrow's post will be of pictures that DH and I snapped of the house we lived.
No comments:
Post a Comment