Zinnias coming up, tomatoes that need to be staked, some squash and zuchinni, and short wall of Mexican sunflowers; never grown them before, supposed to be orange.Memorial Day; wish we had underground utilities like in England, then the trees wouldn't be such a menace during a storm.
On this day of remembrance, it is fitting to recall those we know or have heard about who gave the ultimate sacrifice, LIFE, geez, freedom costs a lot! Missing sooo many dawns, long life with a woman, drinking with your buddies.
Mom who is ninety-five had four brothers, two fought in WWII, one fought in Korea and Vietnam, the other, youngest, never served, worked as a conductor on the railroad.
I never met Dick, he died on Iwo Jima, big fellow, carried the BAR, killed by a sniper, and it soothed the family to know his assailant was subsequently roasted by a flame thrower. Mom said, she loved him and that although he was strong, that when they wrestled he NEVER hurt her.
Back of my truck today, convenience centers closed, had fifty lbs of sweet potatoes and fifty lbs of onions on top to keep from littering. Had a great time on the food run, geez, feel blessed to be able to do it; saved the bottom of the boxes, brought some produce home that Second Harvest provides for the Wednesday run; visited with dear friends; Wonderful elderly lady, Grace, makes black raspberry jelly, lord have mercy it is GOOD; sitting on a bench visiting with her today she said, she couldn't make any because it's been raining; grrrrrr, she doen't use "sure jell"; picks the berries along utility cuts through the mountains.
It's a wonderful life, every food run is like a Frank Capra movie. Thank you Uncle Dick.
smilingThank you for sharing with Uus, and with those you share your provisions.
*she smiled softly reading this**grateful to those that have served and those that still serve*
Thankful for the men and women who gave their lives for our freedom and liberty.I pray we never allow their sacrifice to be minimized, or disrespected.
My Dad fought towards the end of the second world war. He would never talk about it when we were young. It wasn't until I was in my 40s and he was visiting just before he got diagnosed with cancer that he told us of his experiences. Reduced me to tears. Could understand why he tried to shut it out. No mental health help in those days!
Adding my thanks,for those known and unknown.
Just fucking smilingTo all of us and ours who have served.
That is one happy garden Panurge!