In my mind, I'm five years old having a high old time wandering and wondering. In reality, I'm now in my late 60s, wowza! I tell you a lot of creativity is still to be found in this old young self. In you, too, whatever your age. Welcome to my barefoot world!
Yesterday was the anniversary of Mama’s Spirit freeing herself to soar into the Universe. Six years ago it was. There being things I wanted to be distracted from, I gathered flowers from the yard and took them to the cemetery. Calendula, freesias, lavender, and pineapple sage. Some for Mama and Daddy, some for the two baby sisters, and some for Uncle Frank, Daddy’s younger brother. When I set the tin can of flowers on Mama’s and Daddy’s gravesite, I noticed that all the flowers were ones I’ve been growing the past six years. That’s a feat I had no idea I would’ve or could’ve been part of my story. I like to think Mama noticed, too. About the flowers, that is.