I remember these Sundays as something fun. The food and the fun on the lawn would go on into evening when I would catch fireflies and put them in a jar with holes punched in the cap for air. We little kids had a tin tub for a pool and a garden hose draped over a laundry line was our outdoor play shower. I remember the sickly sweet smell of Concord grapes. Papa had a kitchen garden and my cousins would pick tomatoes and salt them and eat them like warm little apples. This picture is from before my time but the tradition went on for decades and I grew up in it. Am grateful for this. Tank Godda fa dis, as my Nana would say.
1944 Sunday dinner under the grape arbor
March 25, 2015
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