I dragged my girls down the street, kicking and screaming while I pointed out different things.
(Actually, they were well behaved and showed the appropriate acknowledgement as their mother relived her childhood)
They ran up and down the stairs that we used to cut from my Grandma's street to the main street in town.
The building next to the stairs used to be a lovely little church.
It is now a vacation home.
It also had a fire since we were there.
I believe it was spotted and extinguished before too much damage was done, thankfully.
They drank water from the city fountain which is the same that my sister and I drank from....and their grandparents and great grandparents.
Still touted as the world's best water, I could not agree more.
This photo is not the best, but it illustrates the fact that Grandma's gene for blinking in pictures has been passed down.
The plant tags are mini canvases...cute idea and a great use of space.
Downtown looks much the same and the rain was a wonderful addition.
Rain had seemed like a distant memory.
After the boys were finished gathering information for the best fishing spots, we had breakfast.
The Cornerstone Bakery is located in a building that used to house a quaint flower and gift shop called "The Garden Court".
This shop is a place that my sister and I frequented.
There were two ladies who owned it and they adored us.
I can still remember the scent as you walked in the door.
So many things to look at...figurines, cards, flowers.
It fascinated us and the ladies were so sweet.
It also happens that the first home Hubby and I built when we were married was on Garden Court.
I think not.
Anyway...breakfast....one of the best I have had and new memories were made in a very special place.
The only down side to this entire trip was the fact that my Aunt had been taken to the hospital before we arrived and would remain there until after we left.
She is doing much better now and I hear tell that when my cousins visited last week, they kidnapped her and took her out for the day.
Just sad that I missed her.
Her gardens were so pretty and cheerful.
Grandma would be happy.
Entering Dunsmuir, one passes through a tunnel under the highway and this house is straight ahead.
When I was little, it was covered in black, shingled siding.
We named it the parrot house.
Prettier now, but it's not the same.
The wildflowers were abundant and everything was so peaceful.
Placing pennies (and other coins) on the tracks is a time honored tradition.
Going back the following day to locate them is a treasure hunt.
New and old memories meeting and creating perfection.