{home} squared

In this life, I feel incredibly blessed to have received a double portion of home. Of course the town I live in is home to me. I grew up here, my immediate family is here, my husband's family is here, and most of our friends are here. 

But five or six times a year, I get to spend a weekend in another home. One where biscuits and sausage wait for me in the morning (thus the picture of my grandmother's oven above, and yes, that is a pile of bacon on top of it!), where time is spent relaxing and catching up with family, and where you can actually see stars at night. Even though the drive is long, after a weekend there, I feel like my battery has been recharged. Who wouldn't? It is everything home should be: the food is outrageously good; just about everyone in my family can cook. Plus, they just don't sell such amazing food out of an airstream trailer anywhere else. The company is charming: there is no shortage of stories or laughs or something new to learn (jellies!). And the scenery is so good, filled with places and pictures that are as familiar as they are beautiful.  Now, most of the friends have, at some point, heckled me when I begin waxing poetic about my country home, but I got really lucky with my husband. He loves it too, and is always up for a roadtrip. It's so cute how he calls my family what I call them: aunt, uncle, mamaw, ect. 

My battery is currently all charged up from this past weekend. And I have been inspired to try to make a real breakfast for us one morning this week. If I'm able to pull it off (I am by no means an early bird), my husband just may go into shock. And I love a good surprise.