Another trip home and I finished the film that was sitting in my camera. I forgot when it was last used, so when the pictures came back I was surprised to see they all seemed like a continuous event. Though the first half was from last summer, most of the pictures from each time frame were of my friend Brianna, a sunny creek, and blackberries. Haha.
I guess that just shows what summer means to me.
I am from a very small town. Maybe you have stopped there once to get gas on your way to Yosemite. Maybe you saw the historic talking bear. Its voice box is broken and the paint peels off t he fiberglass a little, but it is not a joke.
Oakhurst has lots of:
Gas stations: “Last stop before Yosemite valley!”
Churches: 20 in Oakhurst alone. (Makes for great thrift stores though)
Gossip: Let me tell you about the 4 “E”s of living in a small town
Everyone knows Everything about Everybody Else.
To be honest, I haven’t been to Yosemite all that much. Most of the time we were in the surrounding Sierras discovering logging flumes, hot springs, and blackberry patches. In the late nights with new licenses we climbed on top of random buildings and watched the stars.
We were just kids who held onto pride with nervous fingers and watched tourists marvel over a small town we thought we owned.
I don’t think I’ll ever live there permanently, but the blackberry-apple summers and warm nights tug at parts of me that I forget I still have. I’ll always be a country girl. I’ve caught spiders and swam in rivers alone. I dreamt of the big city but now that I’m here it’s hard not to miss the place I came from.
At home I made a Black/Straw-Berry Crumble sweetened only with two tablespoons of honey. Unfortunately that was the only part I measured, so no recipe today.
*The title of this post comes from “Down in the Valley” by The Head and the Heart