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On return, first thing, I view my garden with sleepy eyes. Straight away, I summerise, nothing died. I pull a few offending weeds, as I go along the paths. New colours cream,lilac,red and yellow. Daffidols bulbs that split in halves. As I reach the cherry tree, a tear comes to my eye. Buds of pink, Mum's birthday, May 2nd......She died. Bulbs I planted last October are trying to break free. From that poor clay soil I put them in.....silly me. My rose tressles have blown down. Taking rose plants with them. The baby orange tree, in hothouse has babies hanging from the stem. My garden gives me so much pleasure. You would not understand. Unless you tend one, just like me. Midwives to nature....unplanned.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2016

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Date: 4/14/2016 3:22:00 PM
Oh! I have always wanted to have my own garden, it must be really good returning home to meet your lovely garden. Wonderful poem Jean.~Abosede.
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Date: 4/14/2016 4:16:00 PM
I am truly blessed Abosede. This house was built with stone in 1939. It has a small garden front and back. Enclosed by mature trees that offers wonderful privacy, it is hard to believe how close to town centre it now is.