Remembered

On my way home from dropping off the wheelchair and stool at Lincoln, I detoured through Springston and stopped to wander through the small graveyard.

I felt a lump in my throat to see this recently left yellow rose on a double plot. 1932 is a long time ago and someone still remembers.

If I ever needed evidence that I live on an ancient river bed (from when the Waimakariri River discharged into Lake Ellesmere), I discovered it today. I dug 2 small holes to plant a hydrangea and a tussock grass. I can see why the locals warn that you need a pick. Gypsum went into each hole to break down the clay soil.

Today's gratitude: For rest and time to reflect on the long weekend I had with Dad.