Had to drop some things off for my son this evening. The roses are starting to bloom at the old place. Several different irises that I had divided and moved two years ago are blooming for the first time since the move. They look glorious. My favorites were these great, tall white ones. I saw dutch iris blooming as well, though obscured from view by the weeds that have grown up. Where he didn't mow it down, the dame's rocket is blooming and the poppies are starting to uncurl their buds. The gardens themselves are well-overgrown or mown over, but there are many, many of those lovely and tough plants coming up, budding, growing.

It i very bittersweet to go by there now.

Creation and I have definitely left our marks. 50 years from now there is going to be some future generation of something that I planted and nurtured there spring up to surprise whoever is in that place then. Perhaps the children and grandchildren of old neighbors will tell about remembering the big Victorian cottage garden and the lady that they often saw out in it, dirt and sweat running down her face.