As I gaze at Grandma standing knee deep in the Zinnias, I want to be there- drinking in the moment- stopping the raging current of time, enjoying the colors, the scents, Grandma’s touch, Grandma’s cheer.
Thank you God for Grandma’s love of flowers and for passing that love on to me.
Thank you for her cheerful heart and always smile.
Thank you Lord, thank you!
Every time that I see this photo, I want to sing
“I’m a little teapot, short and stout…..”.
A children’s song that my mother taught me.
Which I in turn sang with my children
and then with my grandchildren.
Now my children are adults
and my grands are almost there.
No one is singing “I’m a little teapot..”
Time passes too quickly.
In the language of flowers
The Zinnia represents “in memory of an absent friend”
Can my grandma be considered a friend?
She was one of my most favorite people ever
She loved Zinnias
Her yard was full of them
I plant them in my yard
In memory of her