It was a nice visit and, of course, while I was there I took pictures. Because that's what I do. I took pictures of the things that I have seen at least 1000 times, yet somehow this time they looked more beautiful than I remembered. I think absence really does make the heart grow fonder.
Like the peanuts coming up in rows. Remembering the smell of the peanut fields, the dust in the air during the harvest. Sitting under the carport with my cousins picking fresh peanuts off the vine, just pulled up from the field next to the house. The smell of Mema cooking boiled peanuts.
The fields, the sunsets. Growing up in a place that a secret between "you, me and the fencepost" really meant something.
Aunt Molly's road. I never knew Aunt Molly. She was my Papa's cousin that died before I was born. But I remember her house that used to sit under the trees on this road. Any walk or bike ride generally was generally measured by it's proximity to Aunt Molly's. The old white, wooden house has been gone for years. But this is still Aunt Molly's road.
The clothesline where Mema hung her laundry. I remember as a little girl, reaching my hand up high into the calico cloth clothes-pin hanger that she slid along beside her as she hung out the laundry. She would patiently let me help as I lifted the wet sheets from the old, silver washpan. I still love the smell of clothes hung to dry.
The tree that still stands in the field behind my folks house. I remember my Papa telling me of how this tree was planted by his father, my great-grandfather... behind the house where my Papa was born, where my Mom grew up, where I grew up. The place that, 100 years after this tree was planted, is still home.
The driveway where I spent hours riding my big wheel. And then my bike. Going really fast then hitting the brakes to see how far the gravel would fly. The fun that can be had on a driveway that's not paved.
These pictures may not mean much if you've never been here. But something about being away from home for so long really helps me to appreciate the beauty that I'm sure I've sometimes overlooked.
Who says you can't go home?
3 comments:
This post resonated so much with me!!! I'm such a sentimental girl and every time I go back to my Dad's house (same house I grew up in), I have similar sentiments of just remembering SO fondly years of the past. And how, the older you get, the more we can appreciate the beauty of the mundane. LOVE it, Jenny. And the photos make it all the better! Great art!
Beautiful.
Beautiful snapshots of Alabama. My Nanny had a calico clothes pin hanger and clothes line just like the one you mentioned. She had a wash house where my mom had signed her name as a child and I signed mine. Places are so evocative- stamped on our memories.
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