Four years ago my parents decided to expand their farmin' lifestyle and moved deep into the east texas piney woods which left their tiny in comparison farm abandoned and without a family to host in its historic property lines. The property went up for sale and 4 years later that is how it remains. Perhaps it is the lack of appreciation that our generation has for "roughing it" or the poor economy thats keeping the gates chained. Either way... it sits. Lonely and visited only by a group of landscapers once a month to prevent everything from looking too "Forbidden Forest-like". Until today.
My mom gave me a call yesterday informing me that the giant pear tree on the farm was heavy in beautiful yellow pears just waiting to be picked. I love pears, and since becoming a stay-at-home mom I have taken to a few domestic hobbies including baking. A pear pie just sounds nice. I called up another mommy friend of mine we tossed our little ones in the car bright and early this morning and headed to my old stomping grounds. Amazing how something so familiar and so well known can almost appear to be a stranger after being apart for so long. Yet everything was the same. The beat up concrete driveway. The twists and turns of ivy covering the side of the large white house. Everything was... perfect.
We loaded up our reusable Whole Foods bags with pounds and pounds of delicious pears. One juicier than the next. Our babies sat and gabbed to each other in their strollers, no doubt talking about how crazy we were to attempt any sort of manual labor, especially in the dead of one of the hottest Texas summers in history. But as we drove down the oh so familiar road I couldn't help but smile. I had shared part of a memory with my little one that I experienced every summer on that family farm. Picking pears till our skin turned red and enjoying fresh pear lemonade on the back porch as we watched the blazing sun set behind the giant pecan trees. It was a comforting nostalgia and a beautiful morning.