While sipping morning coffee, reading notes from friends and readers. I’m reminded that over the years the privilege of writing Memories has gifted me with many friendships. I look upon each new day as a gift and feel blessed to have loyal readers.
I go back to childhood remembering one of the simplest days turns out to be a wonderful memory.
Bean picking time; my mission took me no further then a scamper across the cow pasture on a hot summer day to fetch a pail of fresh picked green beans from Aunt Nanny McCormick’s garden.
To my mind, a scramble across the pasture on a summer day turned out to be like an adventure-filled odyssey that I remember to this day…
As far back as I can remember, grandma’s ritual for canning started by dragging out her canning equipment, with bushel baskets of beans to snap, while sitting on the back porch.
Grandma called canning time “putting up” for winter months.
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