That's just a montage of all manner of things -- lettuces, tomatoes, various and sundry herbs, and up there in the top right hand corner is a mess of petunias. I asked why petunias, and my Personal Gardener said, "Some things just don't need a reason. They are just going to be out here to be pretty."
I am all about sitting around with no purpose but being pretty, so this works. I have already mastered the art of having no purpose -- the pretty part? Not so much, but heck, I'm only a smidge better than half-a-century old -- there's time!
The better part of this beautiful weekend wasn't about gardening at all, unless you count the fact that my husband's love of working hard, and his love of working hard outdoors especially, comes from where he was raised, right on the cusp of Shelby and Chilton Counties. We took a drive up to see his Mama, to spend a little time getting Rosemary acquainted with what life is like when you can get turned loose and run down a dirt road with nobody having to get in your way. We wanted her to hear what the world sounds like without plugged-in noises, and the only mechanical thing she heard once we'd parked the truck was the sound of a tractor running off in the distance. The phone never rang. The TV was never on. Nothing other than the hum of the refrigerator clued you in that any unseen force other than God Himself was at work.
Every child needs some time like that. It was a privilege to offer it to her, and we won't stay away so long again.
|Coming up over the hill, to where we hang a left onto the dirt road for Henry's home.|
|Trying on Great-Grandpa Lucas' tractor for size|
|Hey! I got this, Pop!|
|Totally in charge.|
|Being a farm-girl is a lot of hard work.|
Pop helps get the hair fixed again!
|You played here, too, Pop?|
|These two quickly became thick as thieves.|
|So.... what are we gonna do NOW?|
|Exploring the dirt road. |
Rosemary had a ball chasing her shadow!
|And she loved running back up again, too!|
The afternoon came to an end and we had to head for home. Henry loves to drive back home through Jemison, and to tell me every single time about his glory days. This time, though, I think he was telling Rosemary all those stories!
|This is where Henry became BlueJohn.|
He's sort of a legend.
At least that's what I've heard.
Please! Click on photos to enlarge!