Roses and More

As many of you know, from the many pictures posted herein, The Missus Herself has created quite a nice garden. I can spend hours there. I have at times done exactly that. Sometimes I'm not chasing the lawn mower but actually just sitting in the shade of one of our trees...

Smelling the breeze...

Listening to the birds singing...

And watching the clouds roll by.

Back in the Fall of '99 we moved into this house. Our very own house. Our very first. Twenty-four years of being nomads was over. We were home.

The yard was grass, much of it of the crab variety. The backyard had been the domain of a rather large (though friendly) dog, with all that entails. Holes, patches of dead grass and (though not the dog's fault) a small pile of what appeared to be roofing debris. I believe that at some point in time, the previous owner had either re-done the roof of the shed or had planted shingles and such in the hopes that a brand new shed would spring from the ground. (It did not, I'm here to testify.)

My lovely wife threw herself into the task of creating an oasis of beauty in this desert of drab and listless grass. (And futile attempts to grow new sheds.)

Take a look at some of the results. But listen to this song while you do. I enjoy this song, it's very apropos as to my feelings for the beautiful young lady who left her native land to travel the world with this grumpy old sergeant. Along the way, God blessed us with three beautiful children, their awesome significant others and three lovely grandchildren (so far). Now I sit in the garden and thank my Maker for all of my many blessings. They number more than the grains of sand on the beach.

Really.

Flowers and shrubbery along the eastern ramparts of Chez Sarge

More shrubbery and a tree which began life as a small twig. Seriously.

The roses are legion in m'Lady's garden. The aroma being most pleasant.

Not sure what these are, they look kinda alien. But they're kinda cool too.

A selection of cosmos, these remind The Missus Herself of home. Her Mom had quite a few.
My sainted mother-in-law is gone, the flowers remain. As does the memory of her smile.

Where I sit and contemplate life and eternity.
(And quaff the occasional malted beverage!)

The colors in her garden leave me breathless at times.

More cosmos. In front of another of our beloved trees.

The Missus Herself refers to these as "autumn blossom" - regardless of what they're called, I love 'em.

And so it goes, in our wee garden by the Bay.

Did I help with the garden? Of course.

This being New England, I do believe I dug up most of the rocks dragged down from Canada during the last Ice Age. Oh yeah, I also dragged away the flotsam and jetsam from the "shed garden."

Yup.

I pick things up. I put them down.