These photos could have been included with yesterday's away to the cabin post, but I think there were enough and worthy of their own post.
This little village of Spring City is one of my favorite places to visit. It takes awhile to get there from where we live, but since we were in the nearby vicinity Friday, how could I resist. Those times we've been able to spend at the cabin, it seems like I always want to take the time for a visit, but we've never done it until now.
Anyway, we left with a mug and a delicately beautiful tea bowl. I will enjoy them so much.
We drove around this farming community of Spring City, and I got out of the car a few times and clicked away. The whole town is listed as a National Historic District. It was settled in the late 1800's by Danish and English Mormon immigrants, and many of these old pioneer homes still stand and have been beautifully restored. The place has become an artist colony of sorts recently. Eliza and I took in an artist/historic home tour and antique show a few years ago. So quaint, and right up our artsy alley. We were disappointed that the older couple that advertised their "farm fresh eggs" had sold out that morning.
I could have wandered around a lot longer (I think sometimes my kids get impatient with me, but I think they're getting used to my photography needs and ways), and so we decided to head back before it got too late for me to start supper. On the way back up the mountain, I couldn't resist stopping a few times. The light had this golden glow to it from a blazing forest fire on the horizon. I had them let me out of the car the last 100 yards or so and took my time getting back to the cabin; walking slowly up the dirt road and into the meadow as the sun was slowly setting.
Speaking of walking, I've been walking to church these past few weeks. (Don't ask me why we all don't do that every week.) Only a brisk five minute walk, but it makes me feel really good to be able to do even that. I've learned to not even take going on a walk for granted. I'm grateful.
As Isaac was sitting on my lap late this afternoon, (he soon fell asleep with my arms around him.) he asked for pancakes for dinner. "I'm just not in the mood for savory, Mom." So I sprinkled some with blueberries, some I left without. They were so pretty, those bubbling pancakes. I should have followed my urge to grab the camera. Live and learn, I guess.
I felt more like a big salad tonight. But first, a trip out to the garden. It's amazing how much things can change in just a few days time. The squashes are as big as boats. And the tomatoes are definitely coming on. I sliced a ripe, red one on some chopped up lettuce, sliced a perfectly tasty cucumber, and topped it all with a half of an avocado. A little guilt over eating that half of an avocado all by myself, but for crying out loud Emily, there are worse things to feel guilty about.
Just now, I glanced out the window next to me and spied a little hummingbird hovering over a geranium blossom. She quickly darted in for a sweet sip and dashed away. That brief moment was a gift for the both of us, I think. Gratitude and happiness washing over me. How that simple action and decision of planting and placing that flower pot could bless this little creature's life, even if only for that fraction-of-a-second moment in time.
And the gift of how I was able to witness it.