When your friend travels all the way to Virginia to pick up you and your horse for a week-plus trip to South Carolina, it’s a big, big, BIG deal.

My  older daughter hadn’t seen her friend since January (when the friend and her family traveled back for the girls’ beloved riding instructor’s funeral). The squealing was ear-piercing.

“It’s a good thing I’m deaf in one ear,” the friend’s father said. “Otherwise the trip back would be intolerable.”

Packing for a horse is no small thing. “Here’s my pile,” my daughter said. “And this is Velvet’s. You gotta take a picture.”

She was especially proud of her medicine kit: an old medical kit re-purposed for a horse.

The friend had brought leg guards along for Velvet to wear on the trip.

After the girls put them on Velvet, she high-stepped around in the most hilarious fashion. It took a bit of coaxing to get Velvet onto the trailer, but she finally made it.

And then they were off!

My  daughter has called daily with reports of her adventures: galloping on wooded trails, getting bucked off (of course), a visit to an amusement park, movies, horsing shopping, getting a pedicure and massage (!), an all-day excursion to an equestrian center, etc. Basically, she’s having a filled-to-the-brim week-and-a-half of fun and games and loving every single minute of it.

She’ll be arriving home on Tuesday. I can’t wait. I’ve missed that girl.

This same time, years previous: on love and leftovers, atop the ruins, the quotidian (8.27.12), fresh tomato salad, chocolate malted milk frosting, and how to can tomatoes.

She’s a gem, this new family member of ours. Helpful, curious, smart, kind, low-maintenance, candid, and adventurous, Melissa’s got all the positive attributes. Bonus, she laughs easily and often. She blends right into our family.

In  many of my cross-cultural experiences, I’m the one traveling, navigating a foreign place, and floundering my way through a new language. Now it’s the other way round. I get to explain and correct and clarify. It’s such a treat, getting to build cross-cultural bridges from the comfort of my home.

Yesterday, we invited one of Melissa’s friends, a Colombian IVEPer named Ayda, for supper and then to help with canning tomatoes afterwards.

That evening the kitchen bubbled with Spanish and English, shrieks of laughter, and teasing. We were informed that when chopping onions, if you wipe the knife blade with fresh lemon, it will reduce the onion-y fumes. Also, Melissa claims, the most effective way to chop an onion is to thwack it all over and then slice it.

“We have lots of secrets,” Ayda said, her nose in the air. “One dollar, please.”

I have a feeling that this year is going to be a special one. The world is coming to our door, and we don’t even need to go anywhere. Lucky us.

This same time, years previous: the quotidian (8.24.15), that special date, he got me, 16, coming up for air, whole wheat buttermilk waffles, and homemade butter.

PS. Prepped this post yesterday but didn’t get around to publishing it until today. My excuse: Life.

This same time, years previous: sun-dried tomato and basil pesto torte, kale tabbouleh with tomatoes and cucumbers, stewed greens with tomatoes and chili, and grape jelly.