She was my mother’s favorite.

For a long time, she had a life on the edge of a patio, but when she started to melt, she was put beneath an eave behind the house, my parent’s last, in Rockville, Maryland.  At some point between the apartment fire in Laurel, Maryland and the move to Hagerstown, Maryland, I must have picked her up, dropped her in a box, and hauled and warehoused her some.

Now she curtsies on the balcony of the mansion inside a cabin inside an apartment on the eastern edge of western Maryland.

Oh would that I had garden rooms today!

Even in winter, one appreciates, have or have not, being able to step outside and move either the brush or the containers around, but I’d much rather have the house and the yard, the garden, and the overhang of a patch of woods.