Been in my bungalow for two weeks tomorrow. Had yet to stroll the streets of my neighborhood. Since this whole house thing started, it seems I've been every where but here. I've not had my daily walk in --well, about two weeks- So about 7pm, I put on the tenny runners and sought adventure.
I'm in love with my little neighborhood. Sure, it's older. Yet, the feel. Reminds me of the town I grew up in. I like that. The sounds. The sites. A cat sat on top of a VW and meowed at me. I stood by a bridge and thanked God for His blessings. He's shown me miracles. WOW--has He.
Made it to my street. I noticed a dark reddish/pinkish rose was in bloom, on the side of my house. I also noticed my seven year old orange tabby cat yowl from the window. Impatient was he, as I stepped in the house. So after a quick pet the cat session, I decided the rose needed to come into the house. I found container for the rose and went outside to pick it.
It's now on top of my fireplace mantel. Gorgeous. That was the only rose bloomed so far. The buds are every where. I'm curious what other flower this little lady who lived here had. I've heard nothing but good things about her. She passed away in November. Her sons sold the house--hence, it's now my home. I hope I make her proud of my own gardening.
Now--back to this rose....in the house where I grew up--we had rose bushes. One the color of this rose, and a yellow rose bush. My mom picked them so they could be on display in our home. She loved her flowers too.
Yes, this little neighborhood reminds me of home.
I am blessed.
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