...with a story. Click on the picture to take a good look before reading on.
On April 23, 1985, we brought Dad home to the Golden Hill Cemetery. It was a beautiful spring day, made more so by the millions of apple blossoms that bloomed that day. It wasn't unusual for the apple trees to be in blossom so early, but this seemed to be an unusually large blossom. And it was fitting.
The following winter was bitterly cold. On one of those cold days -- it was below zero -- I walked up the hill to the cemetery with my camera. Dad's tombstone had not been laid yet, and the cemetery was a very barren looking place. I spent some time walking among the apple trees, when I saw this apple. It was frozen solid and covered with a thin layer of ice. And it was a blossom the day we buried Dad.
3 comments:
Great thought,good feeling, made me think about my dad, I missed not really knowing him untill he died .
Wow, you certainly have been sentimental on the last several chapters. This one in particular brought tears to my eyes as I just lost my dad about a year and a half ago and still miss him terribly. Today is also the 38th anniversary of my mother's death. Thanks for helping me through the day, Sam.
I can never think of the orchards without thinking about Grandpa Rodge. How wonderful that we have such fond memories that the sight of an apple can can bring tears to our eyes.
Post a Comment