One look at this picture takes me immediately to my Nana's back porch and a summer morning in the South. Long before "the outdoor room" became a trend, Miss Lizzie and many other women of her generation ran their gardens and their homes from right here - to splendid perfection.
From a high-backed rocker with a glass of sweet tea and the morning paper nearby, these women held court. Beans were snapped, greens were sorted, corn was shucked, and cukes just picked an hour ago were prepped for pickling that afternoon.
Those vines that you see were often a wild cast of floral characters - each waiting to take their turn in the spotlight. I can remember jasmine, honeysuckle, clematis, morning glories - and, of course, roses of every description bordering Nana's porch.
There was always a cat hanging around, and a Miss Louise or Aunt Alice from next door for sharing gossip and a good laugh.
Grandchildren and chickens ruled the back yard, and somewhere in the distance a lawnmower hummed and a two-seater plane flew low enough to reach up and touch.
In the moment, we seldom see the essence of life for what it really is - but the view from a distance is crystal clear. When that happens, we reach back, hoping to touch - to say thank you - to give life to the thing one more time. In my case, every time a rooster crows, a screen door slams, or a mockingbird sings over a summer morning, I am there - with a grateful heart.
Photo source unknown.
Sounds like you had a wonderful childhood 💕