“Won’t you come into the garden? I would like my roses to see you.”
– Richard B. Sheridan
“You have to be 7 years old?“, Steevenson asked me while staring at the name on his soda can. Earlier that morning, I had explained what PG-13 meant, so I guess he still had that guideline stuck in his head.
“No, baby, 7UP is just the name of the soda“, I replied.
I love little moments like that. It would be impossible to write all the cute things he says down, but gosh I wish I could. Sometimes I do:
May 12, 2017 –
He ran down a big hill and he told me that his heart was beeping so fast.
September 22, 2018 –
He told me his friend got bathtized in a tub full of water at church.
March 18, 2019 –
He chased a flock of “eagles” off the sand at the beach. (E-gulls, because he didn’t remember they were called seagulls.)
Today, he asked us if we wanted to go on “a family walk” which, as of last week, means Kevin and I walk and he rides his bike. I love that he named it almost as much as I love the activity itself. After successfully ditching his training wheels, he loves riding on two wheels and we watch him do it like we’ve never seen anyone do it before. “Good job, buddy!“…”Be careful, baby love!“…we’re always back there rooting him on. The weather was perfect this morning as we wandered around the neighborhood. I drew big, grateful breaths as we made our way along Waters View Drive. It felt good to absorb the openness, the whoosh of the wind that talks through the trees, and the vitamin D that God set in the sky.
And speaking of being out and about in the neighborhood, do y’all know Peggy Martin? I read an article about her recently and I was instantly intrigued. It said she’s “a good girl”…and “stunning”…and a “rambler”…and “very aggressive”, but not to worry because she “doesn’t have thorns”.
Never heard of her? She’s a classic, old Southern rose named after an avid Louisiana gardener, whose home and property stood under 20 feet of salt water for two weeks after Hurricane Katrina. It was one of two plants to survive in Mrs. Peggy Martin’s garden, and she originally acquired the tough-as-nails rose through pass-along cuttings from friends in New Orleans.
Before the hurricane, an author/professor friend by the name of Dr. Welch had visited Mrs. Martin, who gave him some cuttings of the thornless, hardy climber with no name. After Katrina, he and six other growers named the rose Peggy Martin and worked together to make it more widely available. Just search Peggy Martin rose on Google if you want to track one down.
There are two here in our neighborhood and I’d love to bring in a third. Not that Mr. Entrekin’s looks lonely or anything…
Isn’t that something? The second is over in Mrs. Blossom’s yard. We’ll stop by next time we’re out on a family walk. I’m sure Peggy Rose would like to see Steevenson ride on two wheels too. 😉
Have a great Monday and we’ll talk again soon!