Behind each picket fence there lies a trail into the history of days gone by...of stories on porch swings, from sweethearts and Grammas'...many a tale was told, too soon to be forgotten, unless...Unless you are one of those romantic urban archaeologists that just has a passion for old. That yearning for the simpler times when you just couldn't wait to get to Granny's house for the treats and the comfort there...nothing like a Granny's lap. I love the statement 'what happens at Grandmas, stays at Grandmas'...how true. And once you become a Granny, then you know the true value to the meaning of those words.
We each have those little memories tucked away that make that tingling remembrance sparkle in our minds. My Granny had an old cast iron radiator, just my height, that would warm my fanny and dry my mittens...and the bread dough that would rise from it's surface...mmmmm...those wonderful smells...only at Granny's house would they be beyond compare.
Take a moment to reflect on what made you cherish each memory that made you smile from Grandmother's house...that warm fuzzy feeling that will stay with you all your days.
