On your right, some yankee tack brought back from the US by Mom to display her American roots. I suppose you could say I'm half American on my mother's side. ;)
Most of the weekend's conversation was dominated by horticultural pursuits. One of my Gramma's raisons d'être is gardening. Both my Gramma and my late Grandpa's families were farmers - tobacco, veggies, whatever. When Grandpa was still alive, I remeber there being a big vegetable garden in the back yard, and vaguely remeber some of those vegetables coming in the house. Apparently the dog was fond of eating the peppers. Now Gramma has her perennial beds, and this patch of rhubarb that grows like mad every year. We've tried to take some of the roots home to grow, but we're forever killing it... goes to show that subsequent generations have not inherited a green thumb! So, the best we can hope for is a trip to Gramma's and raiding her rhubarb patch.
Having a bit of a rhubarb over rhubarb? NO! It's MINE!
Now, where did I put that tierra??