I am home on the range. This is my grandma's house, where I was mostly raised--my mom and I lived on in a little trailer on my grandma's land...humble, yes. Who would want anything other than? I didn't know it at the time, but it was pretty idyllic. This pic is just out the garden that I remember my great grandpa tending when I was little. I took the picture because I think that' s a squirrel tail hanging off of it; not sure what that's about.
I remember lots about this garden! It used to be even bigger than this. I would take the tomatoes into my wagon and sell them door to door. My grandma would take me to pick okra for pickled okra and to dig up potatoes for the mysterious underground potato cellar- I will always remember it to be one of those strangely comfortable smells, standing, surrounded in the dirt, must be what it smells like to be a toad or a snake, I wound think. She would take me to her precious strawberry patch, then to pick apples off the trees for apple pie.
Baby grapes. I remember these, too.
