just when you least expect it
My first ever gardening experience was probably dead-heading roses in my Grandfather's garden, unless you count laying on the grass under the pyracantha looking at ladybirds - also in my Grandparent's garden. While I'm wandering down that particulr lane I also remember hearing a blackbird sing for the first time there. One of the most beautiful sounds in the world. My personal childhood Eden, that garden.
I never really think about him, and yet I find myself planning madonna lilies like his and dead-heading my own roses. I smell his greenhouse every time I eat a good tomato, or his workshop every time I oil something.
I was six when he died. Some people cast a long shadow.
[Edit: I am tempted to leave the last line of this as 'He was six when I died', just because it's probably the most bizarre typo I have ever ever made..]
I never really think about him, and yet I find myself planning madonna lilies like his and dead-heading my own roses. I smell his greenhouse every time I eat a good tomato, or his workshop every time I oil something.
I was six when he died. Some people cast a long shadow.
[Edit: I am tempted to leave the last line of this as 'He was six when I died', just because it's probably the most bizarre typo I have ever ever made..]
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