The Saturday before Mother's Day we stayed busy so it wasn't until late in the afternoon that we walked to the front door. "What's that?" pointed my husband. We rushed over there to find a long rectangular box with a familiar trademark and the logo of Hermes, a Greek god. "FLOWERS!" I cried. After grabbing the box right out of my husband's hands I rushed into the house. Of course I knew they were for me. Together we opened it and then looked at each other with certain chagrin. All the flowers were wilted and stressed. The rose buds hung loosely and their petals were brown edged with burns. It was a hot day. We had been in the mountains for half of it. Our front door faces west and gets a nice round of sun for part of the afternoon. Certainly they had been delivered and left on the concrete for much of that time. My husband prepared the flowers; clipped off the ends and arranged them in the enclosed beautiful glass vase. I added the
Showing posts from May, 2012
But, I'm back. I think. In fact today it is Mother's Day and I was thinking about my mom. She would make gingerbread as a special treat and then take the thick cream from our old Guernsey cow and whip it into ambrosia. Well, it was to me. Whipped cream with lots of sugar and real vanilla that she purchased from a traveling salesman, The Raleigh Man. (I admit for many years I thought he WAS The Rolly Man. The Rolly Polly Man, because he was quite rotund! Kids.) Awww... memories. If you never had fresh hot gingerbread, and cold sweet whipped cream, then you've missed out. I closed my blog for awhile and I'm just going to refer you to a post from my daughter Karmyn that will answer questions ... if you have any. ps. while I was "gone" Blogger changed EVERYTHING. I'm not even sure I know how to post anymore.