That's right, Rapaire.


Often enough to be a comfort, I'll see an unknown-to-me wildflower, only to hear my dad's voice from back when I was 2 and 3, telling me the name. Memory is a grand gift. I still reach for the 'phone to tell my dad what's blooming most beautifully in the garden. Sometimes my mother likes to hear those things I'd have told my dad...Helps us both.

maeve