Something I remember from my childhood was visiting with friends and family. Almost every Sunday from as far back as I remember until I was in my late teens or early; 20s, my mom had Sunday dinner at our house. I was the youngest of 11 so there was always a houseful. Being the youngest of so many, I grew up playing with my nieces and nephews more than my siblings. I would wake up to my mom singing along with country western music on the radio often yodeling in the kitchen as she began preparing the huge meal. My brothers and sisters would start arriving with their families around 11. My few aunts and uncles who lived nearby would come with their families as well.

I remember sitting listening to stories the adults told of their younger years or about relatives who did not live nearby. Mom would be telling us younger ones to get out from under foot in the kitchen. We would eat promptly at 1pm. BBQ chicken, or roast with potato salad or mashed potatoes and gravy, corn, pickles, olives, bread and some type of dessert like Mom's wonderful cookies or a jello cake. Later the men would play cards while the women chatted in the front room.

Today at the Madison County farmer's market in Winterset, IA, I felt a bit of that again as Mr. Vanillaholic and I visited with folks stopping by our vanilla booth. We talked about chickens (especially mean roosters) chasing us as kids. Talked about homemade ice cream and pudding. So many memories... If you have older relatives. Take the chance to visit with them. Record their stories before they are gone. Write them down or make a video and save it for the ones who come next who won't get to hear directly from Uncle John who took the horse in the house and up the stairs Or from Aunt Mae who fell out the window while peeing because she didn't want to go to the outhouse in the dark. Our family histories are precious!