Dave has passed. The lawn hasn’t been mowed since he did it last. He loved deer, quiet mornings, and photography. This is one of his. Goodbye for now, cousin Dave. I’ll see you in the meadows.
Dave has passed. The lawn hasn’t been mowed since he did it last. He loved deer, quiet mornings, and photography. This is one of his. Goodbye for now, cousin Dave. I’ll see you in the meadows.
My first glimpse of pink waterlilies in a pond was at my Aunt Lydia’s. We spent the weekend with my grandparents at their private camp in the woods and took a walk down a scenic wooded pathway that opened up to an open field of grass and wildflowers as high as my waist with a little cottage near a pond. In that pond were bright pink splashes of pink & green with yellow in the center. The smell of the waterlilies was so fragrant we could smell them before we saw them.
My grandmother let me bring one flower back to camp and put it in their pond. I knew nothing about waterlilies at 10 years old, so when I returned a few weeks later in the summer and saw waterlilies in bloom in their pond I was told that the one I brought back from Aunt Lydia’s grew.
Every time I see or smell waterlilies to this day, I remember times long ago of walks in the woods, cool wet feet and sweet smells of pine needled paths with laughter and waterlilies.
Now waterlilies grow in my own pond and I have varieties of pink and yellow. Plus other pond plants that I enjoy. Spring has turned quickly into summer with the memory from the deer eating the pond lilies.