Grow and tickle the noses

Sometimes we need to stop and smell the flowers.

And sometimes, when you just need that moment, the flowers find their own way to lower your shoulders and ease your day away.

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Grandmother’s garden

I’ve been about again. My grandpa passed last week on my mother’s birthday.

In all of the care my grandma gives to others, in all of the time she’s spent away, in all of her years her garden has shrunk to a bright spot by her doorstep, plants throughout the house, and loved-upon loved ones and not-long-strangers where ever she’s been.

I’ll need to learn to make popcorn balls. My kids had yet to have grandpa’s family-famous treat.

Dewey decimal drawings.

Inside is a face covered in crayon. A mug of coffee half gone. A breakfast grandly attempted which achieved a modicum of success. Two very special notes: the names she first gave us written on notes in her own hand.

Outside, the fog is burning off in the sun’s beams of day awakening.

It is time for shoes until the ground wand and the day swings full.