Yesteryear’s flowers

Flower Art, September 2014
Flower Art, September 2014

The rainstorm let up, but the air was cool enough to make the drive to my parents’ place comfortable. We had a nice visit, and then Al and I carried to the car the things that we are to keep for them. Dad insisted on giving me two of his reference books from writing. The 20th Century news day by day (must check on the actual title) and the Encyclopedia of Ireland (ditto—they’re in the other room), both of which I shall enjoy. He said that he is not writing, now, and does not do much reading, and he wanted to be sure that I had my pick of books, again.

I now have, also, the pencil drawings that my sister Bryce gave to my mother over many years. They are framed. I shall enjoy being able to look at them when I like. The first anniversary of her death is next Wednesday.

There are areas in which I am not gifted—too slow, too elsewhere oriented and tightly focused, oblivious —that did not have any positive impact on relationships within my family of origin. Given the trade-offs as I now see them, I don’t think I would have been inclined to change earlier. Life certainly is odd.


One thought on “Yesteryear’s flowers

  1. Your art is absolutely glorious–uniquely attractive; I really enjoy it. And that last line of the post makes me laugh in spite of my gloomy mood–“odd”. Yes. Life is.

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