She is much like me and I knew her porch would be alive with flowers. Like the flowers on her porch, our daughter is lovely, dainty and delicate with a fragrance of sweetness about her. We arrived at her home in upstate New York, on a cloudy day. "It has been raining for a few days," she said. It mattered not to us, we just wanted to look into her pretty blue eyes, embrace her and listen to her voice. We stood on the porch for a while and she told us the names of flowers. Most were strange to me. What grows in the north, most likely will not grow in the sandy soil of Florida. She pointed to a plant in the corner. They were an extraordinary color of blue, a rich deep royal blue, and familiar to me. Growing up on a farm in Pennsylvania, we had grown these each summer. Potted and staked, hers were thriving on the porch. "These are my Morning Glorys, Mom." "They are so beautiful," I said. Although tired from the long drive, we were happy to finally be there with her.......
Let us be grateful
to people who
make us happy;
They are the
charming gardeners
who make our
souls blossom.
~Marcel Proust
