It makes me deliriously happy to have the opportunity to share country life with this little city boy. To see the pure joy on his face when he gets his fingers around a potato buried in the soil; feels to see if the carrot is big enough to pull; picks a fat pea, unzips it, and pops the orbs in his mouth; picks the red huckleberries and puts them on his tongue erases any doubt that coming back here was the right thing.
“Gigi! For dinner I want to have everything we picked in the garden!” You got it. (He decided not to try the rhubarb sauce on his ice cream though.}
Elliot Hill, this is your hill.