Memorial

Today is my Mom's birthday. She would have been sixty-five years old. Even that seems young to me now. But younger still was the forty-two years she was when I had to say goodbye to her.

My wistfulness this morning was met by the sound of rain. As I listened to the sounds and thought of my mom, I got the idea to go get some silk flowers and put them along the fence in the woods near my house. The little corner wood on the edge of suburbia is a place that I like to go to explore and wander and take pictures.





My mom would have understood why I love the fence and all its rust and vines and captured leaves.

It was a perfect way to remember.