Yesterday morning, as I relaxed on the couch, I fixed my eyes on several smudges on the sliding glass door. They’re about 24 inches from the floor. Some smudges are smaller than others, but all are rather little. I absolutely refuse to clean the glass because I rather enjoy seeing these smudges. They remind me of someone very dear to my heart. You see, two weeks ago, they were made by my little granddaughter. How cool is that!?
Looking past the glass, into the backyard, birds were splashing in the bird bath. Just above them, sitting in the cherry tree, was a striking male bluebird. He appeared to be scrutinizing the bluebird house posted close by.
Then my attention was diverted to the deck. A large insect, type unknown to me, was flying in circles close to my potted flowers. This year I planted pink petunias, a plant with red blooms (I’ve already forgotten the name), and my favorite, red geraniums.
The unique smell of geraniums takes me back, back to a time long ago. Wait, I’m not that old - maybe not that long ago. When I was a young girl, my Dad decided he wanted to raise plants in a greenhouse. There in the backyard, he constructed a greenhouse. The outside was covered with basic opaque rolls of plastic, not very attractive I must admit. However, on inside there were tables with rows and rows of plants he grew from tiny seeds. I enjoyed walking among the tables, in the aromatic moist atmosphere. Dad grew both vegetables and flowers, my favorite being geraniums with red blooms.
It’s interesting how scents can remind you of something in your past...
1 comment:
I have those same prints on my front door. I refuse to wash them even though I am a neat freak. Some things are just too precious.
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