My first memory of flowers is of picking a bouquet at our house in Newark, my grandmother’s house, which means I was 8 years old or younger. I wanted to bring the bouquet to the cemetery where my grandfather was buried. I think we used to go on Sunday, but I don’t think it was every Sunday. Anyway, I hid the bouquet behind the set of three garages in some sort of pipe or drain. I was greatly disappointed to come back the next day and find it all wilted. My first lesson in impermanence.
Photos from Swan Island Dahlia Farm,
September 25, 2021
A lot more than just flower-love is represented here. My love of outdoors, making things (first time I wore my newest home-made sweater, which I love), a stack of books, my SF Giants hat, and other subtleties ;-)
