The best memories of my childhood took place in a greenhouse right around the corner from my own home. My grandparent’s house.  Memories of catching lightning bugs in their yard on humid August evenings. Sleep-overs in their guest room with the best thick shakes and countless rounds of Skip-bo. Pot Roast dinners around their table on Sunday afternoons, with my Grandma’s famous homemade gravy.  Yes, as a child, going to my grandparent’s house was always special. Not because of what they had, but simply because they were there.  My Grandpa had a woodshop in his garage and I used to love watching him work. Mostly, because I could always convince him that my Barbie dolls needed a new bed or couch. I can still imagine him putting aside the cabinets he was working on to measure my dolls and make their furniture for me. My Grandma was always in her […]