Some of my best memories are of summer mornings when I was still living at home in Jernigan. Always a night owl and late sleeper by nature, I loved staying up to read mysteries long after Mama and Daddy had gone to sleep. They had to be awake before daybreak to open the store, but I enjoyed the privilege of sleeping all morning to the soft whir of lawn mowers outside, like a lullaby playing in my dreams.
My leisurely lifestyle came to a screeching halt when Blue Bird school bus Number 28 arrived to pick me up for first grade – and my breathing became a little more shallow every September when school would start back up right after Labor Day, ending my freedom to be me. One of the great ironies of my life is that I grew up to be an educator — because I disliked every minute I attended public school, mostly due to the schedule and some state requirements that seemed absurd to me, even way back then.
One of the beauties of retirement is that I don’t have to be on someone else’s rigid schedule. What fun it was last week to enjoy an impromptu morning meeting with a lifelong friend to shop for flowers, shrubs, and herbs.
Both of us were looking for things that aren’t easily available elsewhere, but we are also drawn to the simple charm of the small locally owned Potting Shed at the 4-way stop on Moore’s Mill Road. I was on a quest to locate some hard-to-find paving stones I need to finish a project, and I thought Heath, the owner, might be able to point me in the right direction to locating them.
I came home with onion chives, garlic chives, yarrow, and a special verbena to add to my beds of culinary plants and flowers. My friend filled her car with even more treasures. I also came away victorious, with the final piece to the puzzle that led me to those paving stones I’d been told I would never be able to locate.
As my friend and I parted ways, going in opposite directions, each heading toward other adventures, I rolled down the car windows and welcomed in the fragrance of newly mown grass that transported me back to those Jernigan summer mornings both of us still treasure.
Marian Carcache welcomes
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