A Little Bit of History

I was born in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, and lived my first eight years on a non-working, 100 acre farm between York and New Cumberland. The memories I have of those years are nothing but pleasant and happy. 

My dad and me in front of our farm house.

We moved to Florida when I was eight. I've never been the same since.

Every summer, as soon as school was out, we would pack up and spend two days on the road (pre-interstate days)  traveling to Pennsylvania where we would spend the entire summer. I loved being around aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents, and family friends. I loved the weather. I loved that you could spend two days lying about like a lizard because it was so hot and then a refreshing rain would come through and cool things off. I loved the little mountains, the Susquehanna River, the beautiful farms and patchwork quilt farmland. I loved seeing Amish buggies tied up outside the shopping center. I loved how no matter how warm the day was that the evenings were nearly always cool enough to sit on the wide front porch of my grandparents' home. I loved Sunday evening concerts in Reservoir Park. I loved being able to walk in town without being soaking wet sweated.

I have tried over the years to love Florida. I really have. Somehow I've never developed an appreciation for Spanish moss, trees that lose their leaves in the spring, alligators, palmettos, and summers that are so muggy and hot that any outside activity, save being up to one's neck in a spring or swimming pool, is impossible. And even the water in a swimming pool becomes un-refreshingly warm by summer's end. I have finally accepted that I live here, it is impractical to move away, so I have created a nest where I can retreat and pretend that if I look out a window I will see farmland and mountains in the distance.

In the spring of 1999, after nearly 30 years of marriage and three beautiful children, I suddenly became single. This blog is not about that, but this blog is a result of that. 

A couple of weeks into being on my own I called my best friend sobbing. I had tried to change the windshield wipers on my car--a car given to me by some wonderful, loving, caring friends--only to find that I just couldn't figure out how to attach them. My dear friend dropped everything, came over to help, and offer advice: get a cell phone and AAA and you will be fine. Oh, she also installed the wipers and showed me how to do it.

If someone had told me then that one day I'd be doing the things I am now attempting, I would have told them they were nuts. Now people tell me I'm nuts. But it is said in love, I'm sure. 

Nora