To the naked eye, this appears to be a bowl of beans. Just a hill of beans. A crock of beans. But, to me, it is so much more than that. The scent of the green beans. The texture of the beans. The snap of the bean. It's a flash back in time. It's a distant memory of yesteryear. A yearning to drift back to simpler times. My heart is overcome with nostalgia when I'm swept back to Cherry Hill Road.
Cherry Hill Road, my Grandparents home. A simple white Cape Cod home, surrounded by five acres of rolling hills, a small guest house, a horse pasture, numerous barns & chicken coops, a swimming hole and a picnic table.
Many a nights were spent sitting at the picnic table snapping beans for supper. Now, 30 years later, I look in my sons' eyes and wonder if one day, he'll remember snapping beans.
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