I feel a little like a Klingon warrior flying into a death star. Living dangerously, defying my history.
Every year, I have massive pollen allergies. Like clockwork. If I’m aggressive, I can stay one step ahead of them. If I don’t, I’m out of work for at least a week. If I get trounced, I spend a month in bed and not in a good way.
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So how do I live dangerously?
In the midst of pollen season, I go to Callaway Gardens for a few days.
That lime-green sheen on me is not a tan!
I took my mom and girls with me. I’d been there before with the girls, but my mom has wanted to visit the gardens for 60 years. Not my dad’s idea of fun, so she stayed home.
Now she’s free to travel, if she’s physically able.
The sad thing is, it’s only a couple of hours from where she’s lived the whole time she’s wanted to go there. It was definitely worth it to see my mom giddy over the Victory Garden she’s seen for years on TV.
I wish she could have visited years ago.
It was a good trip and I’m on my way home, but I’ll be glad to sprawl out in my own bed again—and boy, do I have ideas for my own gardens!
As tired as I am right now, I’m very glad to have made one of my mom’s long-time dreams come true.
A Southern witch returns home. Secrets won’t stay buried. A chance to confront and heal—or face the consequences.
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