Oh Grace. What a stunning read. It's pride weekend here in DC. The husband and I just came back from a walk into town for a poetry reading and now back home to make pie and check email and I was graced, yep, that's the word I'm going to use, with another great piece of writing from you. I ran into a great maker this morning at the farmer's market named Topaz, who uses old sewing machines she inherited or has found, to craft durable items from old recycled bicycle tire tubes and we got to talking about our favorite machines and upcycled projects (dreamed of an completed). I mentioned your substack and promised to return next weekend to share your name and the link. But that conversation really grounded the day, the beautiful day. And then the rest of the day progressed with our returning from our excursions to our 16 year old dog, for short walks in a little wagon and then your beautiful writing. Such a poem of a day you have been a part of for me and I can only imagine it is the same for so many others.
This is beautiful, Grace. You’re an incredible talent.
It was so odd, before reading this, as I was sitting down for a late lunch / dinner looked out my window and noticed that the red ipomoea rubriflora vines outside my apartment building have blossomed. I immediately thought of Joyce and our shared love for morning glories.
Reading further about the symbolism of these ipomoea ribriflora, “ The red color of Ipomoea rubriflora is often associated with passion, strength, and vitality. In the context of Japanese culture, which values depth and intensity in color symbolism, this flower can represent strong emotions and a vibrant spirit. It is also seen as a symbol of celebration, making it a popular choice for festive decorations and ceremonies.” (https://fukufukurou.com/?p=9486)
Beautiful as always, Grace. Reaching my arms out to you and Tav through time & space. Reading this made me remember our pandemic garden and how in awe I was of your intuition with the plants and the earth.
Thank you for this beauty when I cannot find the words. My mom just passed away on Sunday on the other side of the ocean - so so far from me and yet…the quilt I made just for her was covering her when she surprised everyone by simply letting go. She insisted on having it with her always. My dad said “you were with her more than you know”. I am still an ocean away from my family because my grief caused my body to shut down and I don’t wish to carry illness with me. When I talked to my dad the other day he was shopping for petunias because mom loved them and since becoming her caretaker he hasn’t had enough time to tend to the garden. I don’t know why I’m writing all of this…I guess just to say that we don’t know each other and yet I am here with you in grief - surrounded by quilts and flowers and so much love and gratitude woven in with the great loss. Sending you and yours lots of love. 🤍
oh grace, you words are ever the balm. no matter the topic, no matter the season - you capture it with such clarity and care.
Thanks Ani!!
Thank you for writing this and sharing - your words and care make a difference.
Thank you!
Oh Grace. What a stunning read. It's pride weekend here in DC. The husband and I just came back from a walk into town for a poetry reading and now back home to make pie and check email and I was graced, yep, that's the word I'm going to use, with another great piece of writing from you. I ran into a great maker this morning at the farmer's market named Topaz, who uses old sewing machines she inherited or has found, to craft durable items from old recycled bicycle tire tubes and we got to talking about our favorite machines and upcycled projects (dreamed of an completed). I mentioned your substack and promised to return next weekend to share your name and the link. But that conversation really grounded the day, the beautiful day. And then the rest of the day progressed with our returning from our excursions to our 16 year old dog, for short walks in a little wagon and then your beautiful writing. Such a poem of a day you have been a part of for me and I can only imagine it is the same for so many others.
Thank you! Happy Pride!
This is beautiful, Grace. You’re an incredible talent.
It was so odd, before reading this, as I was sitting down for a late lunch / dinner looked out my window and noticed that the red ipomoea rubriflora vines outside my apartment building have blossomed. I immediately thought of Joyce and our shared love for morning glories.
Reading further about the symbolism of these ipomoea ribriflora, “ The red color of Ipomoea rubriflora is often associated with passion, strength, and vitality. In the context of Japanese culture, which values depth and intensity in color symbolism, this flower can represent strong emotions and a vibrant spirit. It is also seen as a symbol of celebration, making it a popular choice for festive decorations and ceremonies.” (https://fukufukurou.com/?p=9486)
That's so lovely Courtney!
Beautiful as always, Grace. Reaching my arms out to you and Tav through time & space. Reading this made me remember our pandemic garden and how in awe I was of your intuition with the plants and the earth.
Thanks Sarah. Your card was so sweet- Tavi showed it to me and I thought "Damn, Gardiner always showing us how it's DONE!" Love you!
So lovely to read, thank you for sharing!
Thank you!!
I was also an end of life caregiver for a grandparent this year, and it feels like such an experience to be on the raw edge of life and death
Absolutely! The raw edge is right.
This is my favorite substack for a reason. Always a joy to read, rich and filled with life in all of its shades. Thanks for another great entry Grace.
Thank you Ryan!
Thank you for this beauty when I cannot find the words. My mom just passed away on Sunday on the other side of the ocean - so so far from me and yet…the quilt I made just for her was covering her when she surprised everyone by simply letting go. She insisted on having it with her always. My dad said “you were with her more than you know”. I am still an ocean away from my family because my grief caused my body to shut down and I don’t wish to carry illness with me. When I talked to my dad the other day he was shopping for petunias because mom loved them and since becoming her caretaker he hasn’t had enough time to tend to the garden. I don’t know why I’m writing all of this…I guess just to say that we don’t know each other and yet I am here with you in grief - surrounded by quilts and flowers and so much love and gratitude woven in with the great loss. Sending you and yours lots of love. 🤍
I'm so glad you wrote! Solidarity in grief is one of its few balms. My heart is with you, Becky.