A Surprise Fall Feast…

Last night we had a surprise visit from my in-laws and their band. . . That’s right, my in-laws have a band.

So, there was BBQ, a Corn-hole tournament, a fire, our favorite neighbors stopped by. . .

It was a wonderful fall evening under the stars:

I simply adore how food, and the love of it, can create an atmosphere.

Last night was unexpected, so our menu was simple.

We devoured ribs, corn on the cobb and mashed potatoes.

We ate with our hands off of paper plates.



It was late and we were hungry.  We were scattered among miss-matched chairs, and wet grass.  Some of us were still standing, but all of us were eating.  A silent, intense, fulfilling meal broken only by the sounds of satisfied mouths and begged pardons while reaching for more.

Even the children ate.

Oh the richness of it all.

We washed everything down with cold beer and finished the night passing around my mother’s homemade chocolate-chip cookies.

It was simple and sweet–but the feel of it–the chill-comfort, the casual vibe: boys talking over the grill while the girls huddled around the fire.

It was perfect.  No fancy meal could compete.

There were so many photo-worthy moments:  My son singing his “Cowboy” song.  My daughter asleep by the fire first in her Nana’s, and later her Papa J’s arms.  A gentle moment between bandmate’s and friends.  A father and son fighting for the title of “Corn-hole Champion”.

And this morning we woke-up: tired, cold, happy.

My son cuddled with his Nana, reading her a book in Spanish before she had to leave.

Oh the penetrating sweetness of my life.

The blessings of family, the joys of friendship, the life-giving beauty of good-food and even better fellowship.

I am honored.

At one point last night I overheard one band-member lean over to my Mother-in-law and say, “What a great way to end the tour.”

That’s right, my in-laws were on tour.


About trinakhobbs

This entry was posted in Blessings, food, friendship, house, saving the world and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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