My grandma’s been struggling with a host of physical and emotional burdens lately, but she’s nothing if not determined; she’s returned to her home, a beautifully refurbished old farmhouse called Gessner after the road it’s on. Paul, Sage, and I went to visit her there last Sunday.
Visits to Gessner always give me the slightly disorienting feeling of living simultaneously in the moment and in a memory; Grandma’s living room is imbued with the scent of lavender and the golden glow of her many lamps. Her house is full of memories, both hers and mine, and every object has a story.
These are some of the images from that visit. I wish I could preserve all the scents, all the sounds, all the stories. I’ll never be able to, but at least I’ve made a start.