Monday, July 23, 2012


I am currently recovering from some minor surgery which wrecks my productivity.  I can't lift anything over 5 pounds which apparently is most of the things I own... or most of the projects I like to undertake.  No wild cleaning happening this week.  I need to photograph some of my sewing projects, but that will have to wait.  In the meantime, here is a poem that my father wrote about the yellow roses on the farm.


Andy Maxwell took Ada Wahl to be his winsome bride
Just two miles west of Johnson is where they did abide.
Where they lived remain the roses, abundant as can be.
They bloom for weeks in early summer, a delightful thing to see.

Dorothy brought home some roses that fire or spray might kill.
She set them ‘round the windmill tower, also up on the hill.
Sherm’s sister Ada gave the roses for his and Mary’s wedding day.
They were planted at the “Swan Place”, when spring had come to stay.

They live in soil that’s deep and rich, or thin and bare with clay.
They’ve a scent like far-off lemon pie to sweeten up your day.
Pale and delicate yellow blossoms, if cut don’t last an hour,
Replenished and abundant, when left within their bower.

Refuge for the birds and bunnies, a retreat from their play
With tangled stems all rife with thorns, to keep the hawks at bay.
When I see yellow roses blooming, ‘neath the azure summer sky,
I dream of Great Aunt Ada:  I long for lemon-custard pie!

They sway in the breezes and fill the air with sweet perfume.
They prove that loving beauty lasts, when yellow roses bloom.

         D. Wahl                                                                                                                June 14, 2011

All of the names in the poem are family members past and present.  The roses have been in my family for several generations.  And seeing how well they are doing and how abundant they are, there will be around for a long time to come.

PS... I've been playing with my blog layout.   I think it's time to return to a pretty header.

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