I lost my father as a child, and so Memorial Day became bigger in my consciousness than it might have otherwise. There were a few factors working, I suppose. My family still had a small New Mexican village cemetary in which generations had been buried. My father's father, grandparents, great aunts and uncles, and many villagers were named in the hand hewn stone markers of the prairie plots that lined the hillside outside the town.
The practice continued with my own young family as each Memorial Day we would make the short journey to the village where my father was born, and where he lies, usually with cousins in tow, and then on to our annual visit to the mountain streams and caves for an outing. Family heritage was a prominent feature of our lives.
Our children are now grown, and one by one over time have moved their families to the four corners of the country. Not that long ago summers were full of croquet, noisy yard parties, and endless celebrations with too many people, really, beginning with Memorial Day.
Today when I swept the porch, replaced the furniture covers, and snipped a few thorny roses I thought about all these special people to remember. Those gone, and those just far away. I need a personal secretary to help me remember so many important occasions! . . . But I don't think I'm going to get one any time soon. :0)
I inherited my rose bushes with the house, so I don't know their names, but these varieties have incredible fragrance. We don't have many, but they have done well this year.
I'm so glad to be on the porch again!
Thanks for stopping by to see me!
I hope you have a wonderful week ahead.
Ciao! for now!
I'm joining Tabletop Tuesday