Over the River and Through the Woods

To Grandmother's house we drove. Well, Tim did the driving, and I did the navigating. In a way it was as bad as going on a road trip with my dad, who while driving across the country wouldn't stop for anything, not even Big Foot or a nukular explosion or the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, if it was not on his itinerary. Tim must have some gene passed down on the Marshall Y chromosome, because we passed dozens of farmers' markets and farm stands and quilt shops and craft stalls and greenhouses and garden centers and antique shops and rummage/lawn/garage sales with fantastic bargains, and yet he would not stop no matter how much I begged. (I suppose if we had, we'd still be on the road 12 hours later. But never mind that.) I did manage to sneak in a trip to a farm stand, but that's only because it was next to the gas station where Tim decided to stop and stretch his legs. Guess what I bought? Peppers, of course. (And taters and corn.) No photos, unless you insist.

There's something comforting about Mary's house. I like that even after 17 years, when I go there things are still in the same place that I expect to see them.

This is a bad photo of all the really cool stuff, each with its own story, Mary has collected at her kitchen window.


This is my most favoritest objet d'art at Mary's house.
It's the handiwork of Pete, my bro-in-law, from his earlier, experimental period. I think it's brilliant. How is it possible that that fake Christo become famous and rich for his saffron-colored fabric-wrapping crap while Pete, the real thing, is still an unknown talent hiding out in the Texas desert?


This new addition to Mary's collection, a photo montage of Pete and Melissa's sons, Dakota and Jack, is just the cutest thing ever. I suspect Melissa's handiwork in this. She's quite a clever and talented artist.


While not art, per se, Tom's enormous mutant tomatoes deserve a comment. Or at least a few photos:





Mary's not sure what secret potion Tom was brewing in the backyard and dumping on the tomatoes, but it seems to have done the trick. His tomatoes are plentiful, huge, and very tasty. Wish my thumbs were as green.

Cheers for now,
-b