Dorothy's Garden

For Mother's Day, my husband and I headed down to West Virginia, to the beautiful hill on which my parents-in-law live. There, my mother-in-law, who has the greenest thumb I've encountered on this side of the Atlantic, walked me through the beauties that she has growing all over their lovely property now that it's late spring.

 

Her irises, in particular, gave us quite a show, putting to shame my own irises at home. Mine haven't even bloomed yet even though it's already high time for irises. After that visit to my mother-in-law's garden, I've decided that I must replant my irises this fall since I've definitely located them in the wrong place (I think they have to compete too much with the peonies I have them planted next to).

While we walked around on this leisurely Sunday, and I admired the May beauty of The Hill, we came to where my beloved Rusty and Geni are buried. On a slope, overlooking the front of the property, which my two old satos loved so much. I miss those old dogs every day, and I'll be eternally grateful that my parents-in-law (who used to sit up with Rusty during thunderstorms, when they dog-sat for us, because he got so scared) allowed us to take them both there as their final resting place.

That's why my husband is so special. Because he comes from very special and loving people.

This Sunday was the first, since the end of the semester (which I welcomed with a flu-like cold that felled me for several days and then got my husband), that I felt relaxed and like break is really just around the corner. I had a first taste of what that will feel like and it was ever so sweet, like the lovely flowers in Dorothy's garden.