image: painted lady antiques
I love sweet peas. Every year my father would plant sweet peas by the side of our house. The kitchen window would face the fence where they grew. I could wash dishes and look out the window and see the lovely delicate flowers blossom in a wonderful array of colors. Those flowers always fill me with a sense of summer. They remind me of my dad.
Image via flickr
image via flickr
image via flickr
"Poetry is a rich, full-bodied whistle, cracked ice crunching in pails, the night that numbs the leaf, the duel of two nightingales, the sweet pea that has run wild, Creation's tears in shoulder blades." ~Boris Pasternak
Happy Father's Day Dad!
image: painted lady antiques
I love sweet peas. Every year my father would plant sweet peas by the side of our house. The kitchen window would face the fence where they grew. I could wash dishes and look out the window and see the lovely delicate flowers blossom in a wonderful array of colors. Those flowers always fill me with a sense of summer. They remind me of my dad.
