I've been out of town.
And I just got home. When I left, my yard was a barren, brown mass of ugliness and when I returned, it was ALIVE! Yellow bushes and flowers were exploding all over the landscape, tender shoots and stems had burst forth from the soil and were eagerly reaching for the sky, and a sea of emerald green grass had replaced that sad, sorry lawn.
Maybe I should go away more often. I mean, the transformation was so incredible that I called my husband (who had held down the fort while I hit the beach) from the car and told him I had just pulled up at the cutest place and I wished he could see all the pretty flowers and shrubs and wonderful things I was seeing...and then I said, "By the way, I'm home!"
"Finally!", came the reply. I took it as a complement, although it's quite possible that the relief in his voice had more to do with not having to babysit my chickens anymore than it did with him being glad to see me.
But I still love him...and I love my home. Although a week in South Florida at the end of winter never hurt anybody, if you catch my drift. And no, I wasn't catching waves the whole time either. I was helping my sister move. But in between loading and unloading the moving truck I managed to squeeze in a visit or two to a beach or two, a leisurely pass through the downtown Naples shopping district, and of course, a sunny stroll through the Marco Island Farmer's Market where I scored a ripe juicy pineapple, three blood oranges, two bear lemons, a turmeric root, a purple sweet potato, a basket of fresh picked strawberries, and a super sweet red onion....and some saw palmetto honey. And the most amazingly beautiful french melon that was so sweet they called it a "honeymoon".
It lived up to its name...and I saved the seeds from that one. Ha!
So now that I'm finally home and spring is finally here, it's time to get outside and get inside the garden. But before I head on out there, here's a few photos from my road trip...
And I just got home. When I left, my yard was a barren, brown mass of ugliness and when I returned, it was ALIVE! Yellow bushes and flowers were exploding all over the landscape, tender shoots and stems had burst forth from the soil and were eagerly reaching for the sky, and a sea of emerald green grass had replaced that sad, sorry lawn.
Maybe I should go away more often. I mean, the transformation was so incredible that I called my husband (who had held down the fort while I hit the beach) from the car and told him I had just pulled up at the cutest place and I wished he could see all the pretty flowers and shrubs and wonderful things I was seeing...and then I said, "By the way, I'm home!"
"Finally!", came the reply. I took it as a complement, although it's quite possible that the relief in his voice had more to do with not having to babysit my chickens anymore than it did with him being glad to see me.
But I still love him...and I love my home. Although a week in South Florida at the end of winter never hurt anybody, if you catch my drift. And no, I wasn't catching waves the whole time either. I was helping my sister move. But in between loading and unloading the moving truck I managed to squeeze in a visit or two to a beach or two, a leisurely pass through the downtown Naples shopping district, and of course, a sunny stroll through the Marco Island Farmer's Market where I scored a ripe juicy pineapple, three blood oranges, two bear lemons, a turmeric root, a purple sweet potato, a basket of fresh picked strawberries, and a super sweet red onion....and some saw palmetto honey. And the most amazingly beautiful french melon that was so sweet they called it a "honeymoon".
It lived up to its name...and I saved the seeds from that one. Ha!
So now that I'm finally home and spring is finally here, it's time to get outside and get inside the garden. But before I head on out there, here's a few photos from my road trip...
I couldn't go to Florida without my favorite little boy, and he couldn't go to Florida without jumping in the ocean.
I just can't stay away from farmer's markets...and I can't not touch the produce. I don't know why.
By the way, I got a new sunhat after the dog chewed up my other one. And a new set of sunglasses after I sat on the old ones.
I'm not sure why I felt compelled to share that.
By the way, I got a new sunhat after the dog chewed up my other one. And a new set of sunglasses after I sat on the old ones.
I'm not sure why I felt compelled to share that.
So I'll share this--because a nice big pile of produce always makes me feel better.
As does traveling with family...although I have no idea what Will, Mom, and Aunt Sue are staring so intently at. Obviously there was something fascinating on the other end of the pier--probably a pelican. Or a fisherman.
We're easily entertained.
We're easily entertained.
Even watching a squirrel nibbling on a Scooby Snack at a rest stop is fun for us.
Twenty hours of driving makes you do strange things. I thought it was nice of Will to share his snacks, and he thought we'd never get home.
He said that more than once.
He's nine. Time passes slowly when you're that age.
Twenty hours of driving makes you do strange things. I thought it was nice of Will to share his snacks, and he thought we'd never get home.
He said that more than once.
He's nine. Time passes slowly when you're that age.
And speaking of time, we hit a time warp somewhere in Georgia. I felt like a teenager again when I pulled up to this retro station with its vintage pumps. The only thing missing was the full-service attendant.
I never realized how much I miss saying "Fill her up!" and "Could you get those bugs off the windshield, please?". But alas, that only exists back in the good old days...
I never realized how much I miss saying "Fill her up!" and "Could you get those bugs off the windshield, please?". But alas, that only exists back in the good old days...
And speaking of good old days, no road trip is complete without a stop in Nashville and a jaunt down the back steps of the original home of the Grand Ole Opry--the Ryman Auditorium. I drove fourteen hours in one day on the way home just so I could have time to do this.
It's tradition!
And the story of this place and this alley is so legendary (as are the many stars I've run into on these very steps) that it merits its own post, so you'll just have to tune back in later. In the mean time, you can tune your radio to WSM 650AM every Saturday night to catch the Grand Ole Opry show, live from Nashville...after ninety years, it's still going strong.
It's tradition!
And the story of this place and this alley is so legendary (as are the many stars I've run into on these very steps) that it merits its own post, so you'll just have to tune back in later. In the mean time, you can tune your radio to WSM 650AM every Saturday night to catch the Grand Ole Opry show, live from Nashville...after ninety years, it's still going strong.
Which is more than I can say for myself at this point--I was wearing down fast by the time we got to Antique Archaeology, American Pickers star Mike Wolfe's new Nashville shop. But I still managed to strike a pose in the midst of his antiques and beside one of Loretta Lynn's stage dresses...
And sneak a peak into Mike's storeroom when one of the employees happened to open the door. He's got all kinds of stuff stashed in there--even this motorcycle, which according to my local bike expert (a.k.a. my dad) is most likely the British-made Truimph that Mike scored on a recent episode! I snapped this picture as I passed by on my way to the coffee shop two doors down...
I needed a little caffeine to medicate my crushing headache still lingering from the night before.
For some reason, driving through rush hour traffic in downtown Atlanta causes my head to throb. Apparently the speed limit signs were only a suggestion, and with five lanes of traffic going ninety (!) miles an hour and coming at me from every direction, I found myself suggesting that I might be crazy for getting smack dab in the middle of all that chaos.
We don't even have a stoplight in my little town. I'm not used to big city driving. And you're not going to believe this, but I have five new gray hairs now.
I'm flying to Florida next time.
But that will be a long time coming, because when this is what I have at home, I just hate to keep running off...
For some reason, driving through rush hour traffic in downtown Atlanta causes my head to throb. Apparently the speed limit signs were only a suggestion, and with five lanes of traffic going ninety (!) miles an hour and coming at me from every direction, I found myself suggesting that I might be crazy for getting smack dab in the middle of all that chaos.
We don't even have a stoplight in my little town. I'm not used to big city driving. And you're not going to believe this, but I have five new gray hairs now.
I'm flying to Florida next time.
But that will be a long time coming, because when this is what I have at home, I just hate to keep running off...
Aahhh. Home, sweet home.
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