Yesterday was spent in gardening, sneaking in to iron, fix Jim’s computer, do some mending, and play some games. Hoed and weeded, fed and watered, stopped to reflect on time. How it is spent–today was good; productive, peaceful, unstressed.
I love Astilbe, they love the shade. The white plants circle intermittently with the pink, but the white are so much older. Brought from my father’s house, divided many times and repositioned in their places in the earth. But they go back so much further, over decades, to my grandmother’s garden, his mother’s, as do I.
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology