Aunt Lil hopes that you, too, enjoy your weekend.

Whoever loves and understands a garden will find contentment within.

                                                                                                                                          Chinese Proverb

Transferring their spirit to our space

Sitting outside at the end of the day soaking up some D with my good friend, Buddy. Rocking in what obviously needs some sanding.

 

Bud is wondering what we are doing here.  After all, we picked and ate peas/isn't it time for dinner?

I'm sipping some wine.  He's sitting on wood chips, sniffing the air/I wonder what's on his radar.  As part Chihuahua, he's a Sun Seeker/pretty happy soaking up the end-of-the-day rays.

Here hoping to channel Aunt Lil and Uncle Mont.  Impossible to duplicate the acres and acres they were so dedicated to tend. 

Still, wondering what they would do with this substantially smaller space. 

Intensive flowers and vegetables, espaliered fruit trees on the fence? 

Some berries for sure.

Love.  Laughter.  Games. 

Bringing bocce ball into the mix. 

A long table to share food with friends. 

All in a space originally dedicated to hardscape.

Now Come to Life as a beautiful place to be by myself, with family and friends and, of course, the dogs. 

How great is that?  Hard to describe.

Roots revisited

Dave stepped back to assess my attire. "You're getting more ethnic with age."  Yep.  "At eighty you're going to be totally tribal."  Pretty much.  I think I'm going back to my roots.  

Segue to Aunt Lil.  I knew that we were kindred spirits.  From the beginning, truth be told, I thought that she might have left me at the hospital and Gwenn took me home.  Gwenn was my official mother.  Aunt Lil was my unofficial mom.  More details on that front later.  Before there was "ethnic," Aunt Lil was apparently very much in touch with her tribal side. 

And, no, we were not a band of gypsies.  At least not that I knew about.  We were, however, a mysterious lot/that's definitely another blog.

My grandfather was not a gypsy either but he did travel around Europe in one of those Chariots-of-Fire-style wagons speaking to whoever would listen.

  

He is somewhere in the center of that group addressing the crowd.  A preacher.  Later, a horticulturist.  And eventually, my Grandpa. 

Fascinating, I think, that my other grandfather/not yet knowing that they'd eventually meet and become relatives/had come that day to hear my Grandpa Thompson speak.

I'm thinking that a trip to Scotland to retrace my roots could be pretty interesting.  Quite possibly even more colorful than my current "scarves as skirts" clothing concept.