Coffee’s gone cold. It’s a beautiful, sunny Saturday morning. Because of that–and expecting to get treats when they come in–the dogs keep going in and out the back door.
The Holidays are rapidly approaching. My annual Thanksgiving trek northward begins this next week. Where has this year gone? Although, last week seemed to drag on and on.
“Nothing but the dead and dying in my little town,” Said the Paul Simon lyrics. I grew up in a tiny Midwestern town. It has decreased in importance as the years have gone by. Descendants of the people, I knew growing up, still live there.
A white, two-story, frame house still stands. It used to be grandma’s house. My sister and brother-in-law are the present occupants. They’ve kept up many of the old traditions–gardening, canning vegetables, raising chickens.
My hometown may not, now, look like much, but it holds many good memories.