Wednesday, August 23, 2006

My Mama

Visitor Mama has just left for her home near Atlanta. She has been visiting for a week. I had to work quite a bit, which is unfortunate, but we were able to do a few interesting things that she doesn't normally get to do at home.

We spent a night at the lake house--we had dinner at the marina, watched the hummingbirds, sat by the fire in the midst of the pines, and played cards. She went to one of my concerts and got to hear the Salute to Spike Jones (I'm sure that was a real highlight--smirk). We went back to the lake house on Sunday and spent part of the afternoon meandering on the pontoon boat. It was a cloudy day, so there weren't too many boaters out there--nothing worse than a bunch of people taking up our water space. That night for dinner, we had scrambled eggs and bacon while sitting on the deck, which seems too mundane to even mention except that it made for a delightful evening that touched the senses.

Side note: during the boat ride, the sun shone through the clouds in what the author of The Bridges of Madison County labeled "God light." I cannot state clearly enough how much I detest that book--pure swill--and I have been forced to use the phrase "God light" to refer to that particular kind of filtered sunlight because I didn't know what else to call it. But when my mother saw the cloud/sun/sky configuration, she told about how her own mother, a lovely Alabama woman who is fading in my memory, would look at that particular kind of filtered sunlight and say, "the sun is drawing water." How lovely.

Back to visitor Mama: we bought yarn, sat by the pool, pet the kitties, watched a couple of movies (like "Cocoon," which may not be the best film to watch with someone who is 80 years old and has just lost her driver's license due to poor eyesight), made cookies, saw daughter #2's first varsity tennis match, and told stories. All in all, it was a nice visit.

This is a picture of my parents sometime in the 1940s. Fetching.



1 comment:

adair said...

I am a northern transplant from a long line of tender southern women who defied stereotypes and lived with quiet grace... who always remarked, when the bright rays of sunlight connected beaming earth with grey clouds etched with gold, that "the sun is drawing water".

Now they also said that rain with the sun shining bright above meant that "the devil was beating his wife"... but that isn't nearly as blissful a word picture.