Such beautiful words. I’m so sorry for your loss of your dad. The circle of tools - so poignant. In grief, we spend so long looking where they no longer are.
Last summer, I had black spot on my climbing rose. I moved a Salvia hot lips beside her and it cleared up within days! Apparently black spot can’t thrive near Salvia.
My father's woodshop is the last place where things are still placed where he left them. He has been dead eighteen months, and I've cleaned out every closet, every drawer, all the clothes, the toiletries, the teabags...but I haven't yet been able to bring myself to clean out his shop. Thank you for writing this.
Thanks Wendy for a lovely piece of writing. I live in what was my parents’ house. I am slowly - very slowly- changing things but even though it’s 7 years since I lost my Mum I can’t quite bear to get rid of her dressing gown hanging on the back of a bedroom door. Or her knitting in progress. I guess I will eventually. It still feels like it brings her closer to leave those things where she left them.
Such beautiful words. I’m so sorry for your loss of your dad. The circle of tools - so poignant. In grief, we spend so long looking where they no longer are.
Last summer, I had black spot on my climbing rose. I moved a Salvia hot lips beside her and it cleared up within days! Apparently black spot can’t thrive near Salvia.
Thank you and thanks for the salvia tip. Heading to the garden centre tomorrow, let's see if it does the trick!
My father's woodshop is the last place where things are still placed where he left them. He has been dead eighteen months, and I've cleaned out every closet, every drawer, all the clothes, the toiletries, the teabags...but I haven't yet been able to bring myself to clean out his shop. Thank you for writing this.
Thanks Wendy for a lovely piece of writing. I live in what was my parents’ house. I am slowly - very slowly- changing things but even though it’s 7 years since I lost my Mum I can’t quite bear to get rid of her dressing gown hanging on the back of a bedroom door. Or her knitting in progress. I guess I will eventually. It still feels like it brings her closer to leave those things where she left them.