Perfect

My daughter came into the house after youth group the other night and said she wanted me to see this flower she found on the sidewalk. She said it was the most perfect rose she had ever seen and I explained to her that is because it isn't a rose, it is a Camellia. They are starting to bloom here. February is actually the peak for them in southern California.

I told her they are lovely floated in a bowl of water. She is like her momma. I am a wanna-be botanist. I love plants and studying garden books. My Southern Living Garden guide is dog eared beyond measure from years of study. We study wild flowers while camping and try to name trees with our guides.

I can remember having potted plants that I tended as a kid. I would take a little bit of money and walk to a near-by green house and buy a little plant to take home and tend. Dirt under my finger nails runs deep. My father was born on a farm and was a gardener for Louis B. Mayer right after WWII. Our yard was always perfect growing up and I get antsy if our yard needs mowing. I'd rather spend a day in the yard than anywhere else. When you complete a task in the yard it stays nice for a while. With the house it is different and you must accept that jobs never stay completed for long. I have no problem leaving a pile of laundry to tend to the yard.