Ah, 'tis the season of the highest of highs and lowest of lows, in our family. I start to feel it - don't even need the calendar. Sure, we try to focus on all the positives... but sometimes... well, you know.
I guess that's why they call it the blues.
It's good to have my Mom's Jade, a reminder of her love of plants. It resides inside, but nonetheless joins all of Dad's contributions to our gardens.
Mom kept the succulent in a small pot, thus its dwarfed growth. But I freed it. My pot of choice carries quite the story, one Mom loved to tell me, every time I admired it. She and her sister each carried one home to Jamaica, Queens, traveling by subway from The Big Apple and Macy's on 34th Street. Gotta love that tale. And Mr. Jade is lovin' his new space... spreading his wings, so to speak.
Dusting out the demons.
Sing it, Elton, and come back to (link) Bethel, please.
Mom kept the succulent in a small pot, thus its dwarfed growth. But I freed it. My pot of choice carries quite the story, one Mom loved to tell me, every time I admired it. She and her sister each carried one home to Jamaica, Queens, traveling by subway from The Big Apple and Macy's on 34th Street. Gotta love that tale. And Mr. Jade is lovin' his new space... spreading his wings, so to speak.
Dusting out the demons.
Sing it, Elton, and come back to (link) Bethel, please.
