When I was just a kid, grandma Edna, would often refer to me as a tumbleweed. Almost like a nickname. Mostly because I would roll through the kitchen leaving a mess behind. I’ve never heard anyone else use the word tumbleweed since childhood. So when I saw this broken off remnant from a tumbleweed, rolling across the highway it felt nostalgic. Right after I took this photo, a gust of wind came and it flew away. Enjoy.
I love your nickname and your story. Your grandmother must have been someone very special. Beryl
She was a good soul. She used to treat the family to burgers the first of the month. Nice memories. Thanks.
I had a grandfather who would tell us stories by the fireplace. I still remember those wonderful times. Being a grandparent myself, I know how delightful grandchildren can be. Beryl
What a great memory. You are so right.