 Donna
Gets it Right ----
4-17 -03
Spring Home, Fall Back -- on Memories
Sorry it’s been a while since I’ve put anything
up here. But I have the same excuse as everyone else.
I have been consumed with watching the news, checking
the internet news sites etc for information on the war
in Iraq.
At last my beloved spring is here. The dogwood in my
backyard is in full beautiful bloom. My one lone dogwood
sitting among tall pines, vines of poison ivy, and tree
weeds. I call them tree weeds because no one seems to
be about to identify them and they just grow all over
the place. Only weeds grow that green and lush. Figures.
I have a huge window in my office that’s really
one half of the wall. The trees outside are showing
small bits of green leaves, the azaleas are just starting
to pop out. Squirrels are running around like crazy
chasing each other, and they come up to my window every
once in a while to stare or dance with their reflection.
We went to Manteo last weekend where the azaleas are
in full glorious bloom, the wisteria was practically
dripping off of every tree and their sweet smell lingered
in the air. Mock Orange and Hyacinth will be blooming
here soon. They make the whole downstairs of my house
smell wonderful.
This is what I love most about spring, the promise
of something new. Everything coming out of its winter
slumber, freshening up the flower bed, bags of mulch
and the smell of freshly cut grass. It makes me even
more appreciative of where I live, of where I come from.
I just cannot imagine living anywhere else, ever. I’m
not exactly a homebody. I love to travel around and
see new sights. But I love being home.
I still have very strong memories of going on family
vacations. Usually we drove to Florida and stayed with
relatives. We would go to Disney, Weekie Wachie Springs,
Sanibel Island, then to Jacksonville or Saint. Augustine
for the day. Those were great trips. Thankfully, these
were not like Griswold family trips, although my brother
and I would test our parents' patience with all the
calls of "MOM she’s touching me", or,
"MOM he’s sticking his finger up his nose!"
This, of course, temped my Dad to say "Don’t
make me pull this car over!"
But I always loved coming home. I liked to be the first
one in the front door. I wanted to be first to smell
home. I think as a preteen it was just one of those
things I kept to myself. I’m sure Mom knew, but
I guess it’s only as adults that we verbalize how
we felt as youngsters.
Anyway, we’d open up the house, draw back the
curtains and open all the windows. Mom always said it
was to get that "shut in" smell out of the
house before we'd turn on the window unit air conditioner.
I never thought of it as that, it was just home to me.
Then we’d unpack and get stacks of laundry ready
to be done. OK, so the laundry wasn’t so much fun,
but it was part of what I love about my memories of
home.
They say the eyes are the window to the soul, but it’s
the nose that really lets you know where you are.
Until next time......
Donna
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