Every spring I curse this vine - it is so much work to clear out all the old dead leaves to spruce things up for the fabulous explosion of all our bulbs. But then I look at it on a day like today and think - this is beautiful. Over the next few weeks each leaflet will take its turn in the spotlight - flaunting its striking crimson boldly before withering away. This plant does not go quiet into that good night (of winter) - thank heavens - or it would be out of here. Then, today, I found out that my wonderful Nana loved this plant dearly because they shared a name, Virginia. My heart opened up a whole new room just for this plant today, and my Nana, of course.
1 comment:
Oh Sweetie! I'm "in purple puddles" over this post. I make those kinds of connections (Nana and the vine) all the time -- I thought it was just me. :-) You are a stunning writer! Way to let your 'inner poet' out to play. I'm charmed and impressed. (pssst, all your posts are good, this one waxes especially 'Frostian') Love you!
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