A late summer afternoon
on a southern porch
conjures up dreams...
There is no better place than the porch...
Problems are solved here...
Books are read here...
Friends sit here, sip iced tea and visit...
Grandangels play here...
Memories are made here...
The smell of cornbread baking is in the southern air...
Okra frying...
Pinto beans simmering...
Iron skillet fried potatoes crisp and brown on the outside,
soft on the inside...
Macaroni and cheese baking...
Blackberry cobbler is ready...
Slices of sweet onion, and Big Boy tomatoes...
Homemade bread and butter pickles...
Oh the smells of my mother's kitchen...
How I miss that...those loved ones of yesteryear,
and bygone days..
Time spent on my grandmother's porch,
this same porch,
but a different time...
I was the child...
Now I am the grandmother,
but the porch is the same...
Summertime,
and livin' is easy...
Fish are jumpin'
and the cotton is high...
Blessings
-Yaya
