Babam için…

My dad started his garden the year I was born.  When I was growing up it provided a world of endless beauty and imagination.  When I think of my father, I can see him standing stoically among his work, snipping a fragrant rose for me or bent over in endless care and devotion for every sprouting life.  For as long as I can remember, my summers have been filled with dinners of eggplants, squash, potatoes, broccoli, tomatoes, carrots and roasted garlic.  As a child I imagined each vegitable as a stange and beautiful creature.  I loved the many names and varieties of flowers and plants, and I still take walks through the garden with my father as he points out his favorite roses.  Each one as delicate and unique as its name; the Village Maid is creamy white with flecks of pink and smells remarkably sweet, the Apothecary Rose is a deep crimson and is rumored to have provided medical cures in the Roman Empire, the Alexander MacKenzie is a bright fuchsia.  Thank you dad, for your amazing gift, for providing us with a piece of heaven, for always picking a rose for me.

“Poppies” Watercolor


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