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I love hearing about your escapades growing up. Looks like you'd picked up a little more know-how than Aunt Bett realized! I wonder if she had a moment of shock, realizing you were growing up.
Anyway, glad you managed not to swoon. That story might have taken a much different turn, otherwise!
How wonderful that you were able to go back and visit! People keep telling me to never go back and visit a home that you've loved, once someone else owns it, or you'll get your heart broken. I don't know about that. It does make me sad to visit the little town where I grew up, and see all the businesses closed, and the town in decline, but I do still love to drive by the house where I lived. The yard is so much smaller than I remembered it! And our garden seemed HUGE at the time, and now, looking at the space, it seems like barely a postage stamp. Mom sure did pack a lot of vegetable goodness into that little space, I'll tell you that!
Thanks for posting the picture. Now I'll picture you on that porch, or running through the screen door, every time I read one of your Aunt Bett stories!
They say you can't go back, but I can and I did. I loved every minute and every memory.
The thought crossed my mind...I wonder if spoken words can embed themselves into surrounding wood, and if they could, that front porch would really have some stories to tell...of course, I think I've already told most of those stories.
The house looked great, but her garden that used to be behind her house, is all gone. And some of her trees are gone, too. So there were differences, but not many. It was still home.
