We planted roses at the blue house last week. My nephews brought us quite the collection from their grandma’s home. How special to have a piece of someone else’s garden!
As I wait for fall, I soak up all the late, golden days I have left. I may be drinking pumpkin spice lattes and planning holiday parties, but I’m happily sitting in the in-between season of summer-fall.
We’ll call it. . .Summerfall. Read more
I can’t believe they placed me in their grocery cart. I am just a measly flower and quite a bit beat up at that. I can tell she doesn’t care that much for me. I’m orange and wilted and small. I feel insignificant next to the vibrant flowers surrounding me. And she plants me in a flower pot with another flower she likes so much more than me. But I resolve to grow anyway.
I see her water all the other flowers, and I think she might forget me, but she proves me wrong each time. She fills me up with the life-water. She never really looks at me, but I did hear her opinion of me that mid-May day. I’m not that pretty, she said. I’d go well with the other flowers, she decided. Marigolds really aren’t my favorite, she tells her mom.