Down home

So this title isn't really accurate.

Virginia is actually south of Southeast Iowa. But our corner of the District is anything but "down home".

Okay, so that sounds really harsh. We like our home. And we have a lovely neighborhood. But rural and roots, as defines "down home" for this Midwestern girl, it certainly does not evoke.

Alright, now that I've got us off on the right social and geographical foot, I'll tell you this:

Our time in back home was magical.

Through months of conversation about our trip back and the insatiable desire of my folks to do fun things with "the girls", we had down home experience after down home experience. In our two weeks there, the girls got to:

• go fishing. The perfect little girl situation: fully stocked pond with itty bitty fish who bit with every. single. cast. At preschool age, it's about quantity, not quality.
• roast marshmallows around a campfire. Grandpa scored himself a big ol' tractor tire rim that he took a torch to and created the perfect fire ring. Turns out Naomi likes her s'mores just like Grandpa - hold the marshmallow and the cracker.
• camp out. Grandpa set up the tent for play and then they had the chance to sleep out at night! Grandma and Mama read stories with them for Shift 1, but when Grandpa came out for the overnight shift at dusk, Naomi decided she'd rather be in Grandma's crib. Maybe it's just for 5-year-olds.
  
• pet a baby bunny. Friendly neighbor Dennis caught one for the girls just 'cause he "thought they might like it". Given the girls' animal history, they did well consistantly touching the bunny's fur. They even thought they wanted to hold it, but just couldn't make their hands reach down and pick up the little guy. When given the ultimate opportunity to take the bunny out of the box and release it back to its bunny friends, Olaiya said, "I think an adult should do it."
  
• haul hogs. Every time I say this to folks here, they say, "What?" Then I say it again slowly. Got it. Dad was skeptical that they would want to get up at the requisite 6:20a, but with some shaking and reminding, "Do you want to go ride in the truck with Grandpa?" they were up and at 'em and on the road.
  

So that's a down and dirty synopsis of our time at Mom and Dad's. I can't really fully describe or accurately capture on film how wonderful it was to be there. Daily I found myself wishing teleportation possible as I sat there swinging on the deck, looking up at the sky, into the woods and over the pond. Just beautiful. But serenity aside, the magical moments afforded by my parents' planning and effort, I appreciate more than words can say.

I've got two very lucky little, sometimes-city, girls.