memory jar.

I rise early and squeeze myself into days packed full. It is humid, which makes it the perfect weather for memory keeping. Everything sticks.

Last weekend I actually spent time in my garden and was reminded of nature’s bliss. I am tied to the grass, pulled into the sun, wrapped by the breeze. It is intoxicating, this wild expanse of bushes and birds and flowers. I sleep hard under a silent fan while moonlight creeps through my window and a train moans in the distance.

I am tempted to catch these moments and store them in a mason jar on my nightstand, to look at them over and over, flitting with joy and buzzing with memory. And then I am tempted to recreate them, to try to mold my life into the one in the jar.

It does not fit.

Our summer days are long and short in the way only temporary can be.

The magic has already been lost just a little. It is lost every day, but with new magic gained in its place. Innocence is transformed by perspective in tiny shifts, early summer into mid summer, mid summer into late summer, late summer, soon, into fall.

The sun looks more orange than it did a few weeks ago, and I know it is passing. For now, I will save it all in a jar on my nightstand, with tiny holes poked into the metal lid so the light can get in, so it can breathe, so it can grow.

 just sayin'.

corn bread with honey butter

 3 Cups of self-rising cornmeal
1/3 cup Sugar
6 eggs
1 1/2 cups of vegetable oil
3 cups of sour cream
2 2/3 cups of cream style corn

For cornbread:  Combine first 6 ingredients in order listed.  Mix well and pour into a greased 9" x 13" pan.  Bake at 350 degrees for approximately 1 hour or until center of cornbread springs back when touched.  Let cool and enjoy.

For the Honey Butter:
1 1/3 cups of butter softened
1/2 cup of Honey

Mix softened  butter and honey together  and serve with warm cornbread.