We’ve been traveling alot lately. First we went to Eugene to visit family and escape the horrific smoke that filled our valley from all the wildfires. We returned to find the smoke was still bad, so we rented a house on the Oregon Coast with some friends for a week. Home for just a few days before we were off to New York to visit family and exhibit at the NY Now tradeshow in the city. We are again home for a week before the annual Mete Family adventure to Sunriver.
No matter where we are though, home or traveling, one thing always stands consistent. Continue reading
As a little girl in Southern California, my parents each year would help me plant my own patch of cherry tomatoes and strawberries. My biggest childhood memories, though, are from exploring magical lands (aka grandparents’ gardens).
In England, Granddad had two gardens. A smaller garden, tucked behind the shed, overflowed with cabbages, greens, and beautiful flowers. His bigger garden,”the plot”, he would bike to. He’d return before meal time smelling like a musty garden gnome and Nana would prepare an overflowing plate of vegetables with a side of meat for dinner (the midday meal). Granddad never invited me to garden with him. I simply explored by myself and enjoyed the harvest through Nana’s simple cooking. Continue reading