|Photo by Eric Abbott|
The dark coloured house in the right hand corner is my grandparent's house. Granda and his step-brother built this house when he married my grandmother. She had only one request, a built in china cabinet in the kitchen which she got.
I visited this house every summer growing up and always had a wonderful time with them. I was fascinated by the egg laying hens, the real feather mattresses which could feel pokey, and the way you could pick all the partridgeberries and blueberries you wanted within sight of the house. My love of berry picking began then and there.
One day Granda said he had seen something he wanted to show me. We walked to the old stable where a bush was growing a little taller than the fence. He lifted me up so I could look. I was staring down at a nest with three blue eggs sitting there warming in the sun. I was amazed. Then he told me to hold my breath and be careful not to breathe on the eggs. If the mother bird returned and smelled a person on them, she would abandon them, he said. You can bet I held my breath.
I never forgot the sight of those beautiful eggs and I think my love of birds began about then too.
How our loves can be rooted in humble memories during childhood.
Do you have a simple but lovely memory from your childhood that began a love for you?