i made pickles.

I have this very domestic friend, Amelia.  She has chickens, gardens and cans things.  There is much more awesomeness, but an added bonus to her is this feeling I get when I am at their house, their family farm house in the country.  For just a bit, I am at my grandmama’s house again.  Obviously, it’s not a house thing, I can still go there.  It’s a state of being.  A way of living.  It’s slower and healthier.  It’s like being there when I was growing up.  Something always on the stove, veggies on the counter that came from the garden outside.  And it definitely brings my country living dreams up to the surface.  The ones that include lots of littles, garden growing, animal raising and front porches.  Some of this daydreaming, I can live out right through her.  Like this week I learned to can.  Well, kind of.  But I did learn how to make pickles.  And that is somehow one of those dream fulfilling kind of things.  (I have never claimed it took much.)


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