Though we’re in the last vestiges of summer here in Seattle, my tomato plants are still producing prolifically—and deliciously.
Nothing says summer to me like a lowcountry boil, also known as frogmore stew.
Happy Father’s Day to the best man I know.
My intention is to make this post short-ish, because there is just so much football to watch today. I’ve got the Tennessee/UCLA game on mute while I write, and a bit later I’m leaving to watch the Georgia game with the rest of the alum here in Seattle. (We don’t even need to talk about last week’s game. The only highlights: free beer at the sports bar where Michael and I watched the game in New York, and our opening drive.)
Anyway, I really enjoyed everyone’s comments about the blackberry cobbler post. It was a lot of fun to write and remember so many very dear memories from Swainsboro. So thanks, y’all!
I have just as many wonderful memories from Winnie’s house in Cordele. (We never called her Grandmother or anything, because everyone calls her Winnie—short for Winifred.) I suppose the difference is that Winnie still lives in Cordele, and I go down there usually once a year or so. The frequency of trips to Cordele has decreased as us grandchildren have become adults; it’s easier for her to come up to Atlanta and stay at our house, or to Greenville, to stay with Uncle Noel and Aunt Susan. Continue reading