Sunday morning, I had the house to myself for a couple hours. As I finished my last cup of coffee, the outdoors beckoned; a perfect time to bundle up and take a walk to the cemetery to have a visit with my parents. The church going cars were filed (sort of) into the parking lot (gotta get to that prime parking spot) but once I passed that craziness, the walk back to cemetery was so peaceful. Birds singing (Mom and Dad would love that), the sun shining, the wind blowing enough for the American flag to unfurl over the military graves, and fluffy white clouds drifting in the blue sky set a lovely scenario to have a chat.
Springtime flowers are blooming around the graves and every once in a while my nose caught the sweet perfume of lily-of-the-valley as it wafted through the air. It's one of those delightful smells of spring.
The sight and occasional whiff of the lily-of-the-valley brought back a song my mom taught to me many, many years ago.
White coral bells upon a slender stalk
Lily-of-the-valley deck my garden walk.
Oh how I wish that I might hear them ring,
That will happen only when the fairies sing.
I sang it a few times on my way home.
My grandmother had lily-of-the-valley to the left of the backdoor to the farmhouse, I wonder if it still blooms there.
ReplyDeleteMy grandma had lily-of-the-valley by her backdoor, too. My grandparents beautiful farmhouse was torn down, all in the name of eminent domain and "progress."
DeleteWhen I was growing up in Illinois, those were my favorite flowers. We don't see them here. I loved their scent. Thanks for the memories.
ReplyDeleteThey're one of my favorite flowers.
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