Maybe it's because I'm still tired from yesterday (long day) and I had to get up early again this morning. Or maybe it's because this month has been a whirlwind of activity and I'm just mentally drained. Maybe it's because in all my effort to make sure everybody else is prepared for this fall, I keep forgetting to be gentle with myself. Whatever the reason, homesickness has hit me like a ton of bricks. As much as I love and appreciate living in Europe - it is not home. I miss sitting on the porch in my in-law's back yard, laughing with the family that was mine even before I married into it. I miss artichokes. I miss driving up the foothills to see my mom, the mountains beckoning. I miss sourdough french bread. I miss the smell of the beach, tawny hills, scrub oak and friends. I miss cows. I miss being surrounded by my own language.
The corn is ripening. The immature ears still have pink silks. They look frosted with dampness and (pop culture alert) a lot like those little floaty white things in Avatar.
