A couple of weeks ago we paid a much needed visit to Granny’s.

Now Granny lives in the middle of pretty much country Kentucky, in the third house Ryan’s Granddaddy built for her, which all exist on the same road she’s called home for the last 60 years or so.  To me that is an inconceivable feat. You can see a lot of where Ryan came up with his personality in talking and hanging around Granny.  She’s kind, quick to laugh, onary (or should I say slightly stubborn in the most pleasant and gentle of ways) and wants you to feel at home.  Her love for her eldest grandchild is evident in how she lights up when he’s around.  She ruffles his hair.  Fusses over him in that she really does NOT like his beard but doesn’t say he should cut it, mind you.

She shares her love as easily as water flows over a rock.  We’ve visited Granny several times but in truth I’m still pretty much a stranger to her. Conversations are difficult at times because she only has one ear to hear with and that one still requires a hearing aid that doesn’t always work for us higher pitched ladies.  I find myself attempting my best James Earl Jones impression just to be understood.  All that aside she’ll fuss with my hair and brush it out of my face as just one gesture to let me know that I’m welcome in her home and life.

Our visits are always too far apart and are never long enough.

This time we went for a walk on Aunt Carol’s property that has been in her family practically since it has been homesteaded it seems.  There was a walk to a cave that Ryan remembers vividly from his childhood so off we went.

The weather was cool, drizzly and as there was no direct path we went up and down the same holler hills several times, completely ignoring the directions Aunt Carol gave us which really would have worked out for us much better. (Typical.) Thorns thorns and mreo thorns everywhere. But we did make a discovery, we found evidence of a young Ryan.

The hoodlum and his uncle carved his initials into the tree, after 20 years, this is what was left.

Aunt Carol also has a great old barn, that I’m not sure I’d feel to comfy walking into, but was quite pretty enough to photograph.

Best of all for Ryan, his momma made him his favorite dessert.

There are all sorts of rules to The Wonder that is Granny’s The Lemon Ice Box Pie. I took notes but made sure to include some of the flexible rules that Ryan’s momma incorporated.  One of the key inflexible rules is that you have to refrigerate it over night BEFORE you eat it.  It apparently just won’t taste right otherwise.  But it is best to eat it before three days or else it just won’t taste right then either.  So your window of opportunity is best if you eat it all in one sitting…I think that’s where I was going with the above point.  And we succeeded.

Sadly, and unsurprisingly, the famed dessert didn’t last long enough to get a picture of it’s perfectly browned meringue-topped uber goodness confection.  To say I had 4 pieces of it might be correct or a gross under estimate.  I can’t even tell you how much Ryan wolfed or for that matter, how much of it we all ate.

Happiness for sure and always sadness when we leave.  But, Granny we’ll be back!  We promise.

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