Last week, when I left Sunrise Ridge, for Southern California, things had started to ‘green up’ here, but just barely begun. A few daring daffodils had shown their cheery blossoms.

Yesterday, on my return, Hubby had to take me for a tour around the place! Exuding enthusiasm, he pointed out the peach, plum and green leaves on the blackberries. If i was blind, I think I would know this place by the spring time scent that wafted in the air.

Lilac buds are swelling, the daffodils are putting on a show of sunny yellows and sparkling whites. The fragile looking forsythia is blooming rampant around the place where Granny and Pop Shipman’s house used to stand.

Odd, the house is gone and the land where it stood was levelled but the roots of the forsythia, Granny’s peony bush, some iris and a few other things were strong enough to hold on in that rocky front yard. I look at them in awe and wonder, as each year they renew. Roots and sprouts of many of those plants have been taken to other places, other states by family members, as these came from other places to be here.

It is truly a blessing to know that. So much love and beauty shared and passed along. At times I think of where they came from,  where they really began, perhaps on a homestead far away, maybe 200 years ago… but yet bring forth this annual glory. And now too, I consider where they will end, and I hope someone in the future will find them and those in my yard and feel the need to “keep’ them going forward. 

Where did your spring flowers come from?

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