I am ashamed to say that, other than a few fly-by-night, passing-through occasions we haven't been to visit Grandma 'Rette since a few months after Mr. Loggerhead and I got married.
I was newly pregnant and didn't even know it yet.
I probably wasn't even very good company.
She is so nice, she would tell you otherwise.
The place was as lovely as I remembered.
I came here the first time, when I was fourteen.
Mr. Loggerhead and I wouldn't really notice each other for another three years.
There were familiar sights. The sign on the fence, a little more weathered. A different cat in the window. But the hospitality and the feeling of seclusion from traffic and noise was the same.
I like that.
As sad as it was that a death brought us here, I couldn't help admiring the beauty all around me.
The antique feel of the buildings.
The ever-present reminders of country life.