When I was little, Grandpa and Grandma Burt would take drives in their shiny Oldsmobile just to "look at the crops." They'd be sitting in their living room, reading The Sunday Register out loud to each other, and Grandma would look over at Grandpa and say, "Let's go for a little drive, shall we?"
I got in on more than a few of these. I was always up for spending time with the grandparents, but the recreational drives lacked true recreation for me. I liked it better when Grandma suggested--as she often would-- "Let's have a little ice cream, shall we?"
I did become conversant in soybean field conditions (were they clean?) and how the corn was faring--skills that aided me slightly in impressing my future husband.
Well, I have become my grandmother.
I was tired of being cooped up inside our little town. Inside our walls. I needed countryside.
Curt has been especially kind lately. He indulged my many requests of, "Can you stop? I'd like a picture."
He even acted like he enjoyed it. Maybe he was hearkening back to crop-checking drives with his grandpa and grandma.
It hasn't really rained for a very long time.
I'm not conversant in cotton.
I think he would've liked it here.
We ended our excursion with a trip to the grocery store.
Sunday splurges after a drive in the country.
Say, let's have a little ice cream now, shall we?