I call it my bridal bouquet because I left my own on my bed when R.H. and I were married. I was so flustered that I didn't hear a word the preacher said. I just said I do when he paused and looked at me.
Do you think we're really married? I guess I won't fret about that, not after 5 decades.
I've stopped fretting about my unkempt garden too and have decided to just enjoy it.
Not going to worry about the concrete floor needing painting and patching.
Just going to enjoy it and clip the herbs grown in pots now that I can't weed anymore.
Yes, those are weeds there but I'm hoping the hostas on either side will keep spreading and crowd those weeds out.
Not going to fret about the house needing painting again either.
I'm going to rest on my laurels as well as the black and white stripe rocking chair cushions and just direct readers back to the years when I did garden.
If you have time on your hands, which you most likely don't, you can go back to my former blog Across the Way and read the 3 posts about our Dooryard Cottage Garden.
Part One here…
Part Two here…
Part Three here…
As for me, I'm gonna sit on my front porch and not fret.
I'm gonna take Ray Bradbury's advice: