Sorry for the lapse in posts last week, but we’ve had quite the couple of weeks around here.
The night before our 10th wedding anniversary my grandmother passed away.
So we cancelled our plans for a relaxing picnic and opted instead for me to go with my mom to the funeral home for arrangements. It reminded me of what a great guy I married.
He didn’t hesitate in cancelling our plans and watching our girls so I could be of support to my mom.
Then came the funeral. And while it was emotional, I knew she had lived a very full and vibrant life.
She had planted many a whoopie cushion under a guest, hidden many a cotton ball in biscuit dough.
Frosted many maple bars (her specialty), cooked countless holiday meals, and crocheted more doilies than could possibly be counted in her 97 years.
As family gathered at her home after her funeral, I realized that maybe the reason I love old farm houses so much is because of her, of that place.
