Once, when I was fifteen years old, my Grandmother and I took a drive up a small canyon by her home. It was an afternoon spackled in light, and as an artist my Grandmother was a great appreciator of beauty. We came upon a field where tall green grasses were highlighted by orange-red poppies. Perfection. She always had her camera with her so I was hustled out of the car and a picture was taken of me standing amid such radiant flowers. Poppies have been one of my favorites ever since. I still have that picture, perhaps I'll scan it in, but it reminds me of something I will miss. Yesterday was my Grandmother's birthday. She would have been 81. She passed away in August of last year. What a woman. I admire her more as I grow older, because so much of what she endured and over came happened in her adult years. She had a strength I didn't understand for a long time. I am sure I still don't.
Happy Birthday Grandmother. I love you. And I am planting poppy seeds this year.
3 comments:
Happy Birthday to Grandmother as well. I loved your post.
What a lovely post. Isn't it interesting what small incidents from our childhood make such profound impressions on us. Your Grandmother sounds an inspiration - I am sure you will never forget her. If you were to write the story on the back of the photograph she took of you then her memory would go on into future generations too.
Hi Red Clover
Love this post and the photos are beautiful. I agree with Weaver your Grandmother does sound like a real inspiration and to have such a stunning landscape around her for her to paint..wow. Poppies are gorgeous. I can't wait to see yours in bloom
Love and hugs
Liz
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