Last updated on July 7, 2019
I was visiting my folks this weekend. This is where glimpses of my history sort of come together from their perspective, and we talk for a couple of hours catching one another up on what has passed recently. Or, sadly, over the course of more months than should have gone by.
I wanted to go to Crum Berry Farm, and I did, but I failed to note that they left a note on the FaceBook page that stated they were closed until the next day. Fourth of July and my now weak FaceBook skills now that I am off that platform for two years plus at this point I suppose. I thought it might have been related to the heavy rains and reasons that farms are currently struggling with water inundation here in Ohio this year. I’m glad that was a false assumption.
My mom would take us there to pick strawberries when we were kinds and she was strong, sporting short shorts and some sort of killer hair style. She always looked great. But those days. As kids? We hated them. It was work. Maybe not hard work, but to a 10-year-old it’s probably the same emotion a cat has when you put a collar on it. Noooooooooo!!!!!
Looking back on it? Well, I returned today out of admiration for her and respect for those awesome memories she created for us. There’s nothing like picking a container of berries in the summer sun where the gentle touch of your hands pulling them off the vines infuses the air around you with that sweet smell that, well, to me, just smells like summer itself. Thanks mom.
I picked up shakes for mom and me at The Jersey, another Marion summer institution for me and coffee for dad from McDonald’s. He likes the stuff.
Afterwards, I drove home through light summer showers and just kind of enjoyed the soybeans, cornfields, undeveloped tree covered patches along the highway as I headed back to Columbus. I look forward to this season so damn much and want to take in as much as I can every year. It just feels like family, friends, good times and easy days. And of course, there’s a mountain of songs out there to support that as I keep collecting them on my Summer Playlist on Spotify. Much of the genre I love is centered around where I grew up in a Place on Edgewood Dr where my dad would work on cars while playing music into the late hours of the night with his friends or by himself as we’d watch things like Buck Rodgers or Planet of the Apes in the house or go rambling around the street with the other kids on non school nights.
Later though, I made some Soba noodles, a spicy peanut sauce, sauteed peppers and bok choy with broiled chicken breasts. Exactly what I was carving. Plus a salad since I have a bunker full of various types at the moment.
Next up? My first kayaking experience, ever, tomorrow. Fortunately with a group as a chance to learn before I put down the cash for my own as I am considering entering the Little Miami Triathlon in October. It’s in canoes but I’d rather own a kayak. They are just cooler. As always, an embarrassing story to come.