The Rugged Mountain Man and I love taking the children to places where we spent time in our younger days. The Blossoms were itching for some horseback riding, so we headed to an old friend's house. A friend that's known me since I was fifteen.
(Being that I'm going to turn 34 in less than a month, that is 19 years!)
(Side story: Blossom3 proudly announced that Mommy is TORTY-TREE!!! Mommy quickly corrected her that Mommy is THIRTY-THREE! And this is the reason that I would not tell her how much I weighed today, though she insisted and thought I was joking. I'd rather not have that announced to everyone.)
But, back to the fun little visit we had over to the Narrows.
The creek is ALWAYS a drawing card for these country girlies. I had about all I could manage keeping Blossom4 out of it. She just didn't quite understand that the water would be COLD. I think that this may have been the trigger that set off the fit we dealt with for the next hour or so. In the end though, Daddy had her calm (and obedient.)
Many a time have I sat on this very same porch swing with friends, chatting and soaking in the beauty of a place called, "Ironwood and Roses."
(Another side story: Before we were dating, the Rugged Mountain Man brought me a rose from a rosebush here. It was the most fragrant rose I have ever breathed upon. Its fragrance has never been matched, thirteen-ish years later.)
(Yet another side story: This is also the place that my friends and I slept out on the deck in December at a women's retreat. We loved that we toughed it out for bragging rights. It SOUNDS really impressive. DECEMBER... OUTSIDE... We just usually leave out the fact that it was unseasonably warm and probably never got below 55 degrees that night.)
Mommy's role was one of corralling the littles and whoever wasn't riding, but I did manage to give Dancer a little love. The Rugged Mountain Man is the real Dr. Doolittle though. That is because he scratches all horses' ears. His relationship with equines are immediately a sealed deal, for life.
The Blossoms couldn't leave the place without a little ingenuity. They wanted to fish. A long stick, some reeds tied together and voila, fishing rod. I liked telling them that one day when I was a teenager, I fished here for hours while my grandparents lounged on the porch and chatted it up. I don't remember catching much of anything, but the day remains a happy memory, especially since my grandfather is now gone.
The sunshine was gorgeous, the location amazing and the fellowship wonderful.
It was just another day for us to relish the beauty, rather than the "busy."
Sometimes you just gotta stop and smell the roses, which I did, by the way. He doesn't call it, "Ironwood and Roses" for nothing.'
