Yesterday, I buried two fig trees. Not a whole bunch of people in Syracuse, New York can say that and be telling the truth, but I can honestly say it is the truth. The weather here is not too conducive to wintering over fig trees in their all-together, so they have to be helped along. The old way is to dig a trench, loosen the roots and lay them
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(here by way of a comment you made in mazzie's journal)
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I don't know if you are garden-type of person, but you wouldn't have to be if you just walked onto the grounds of this house. The sense of love and care that went into this, by Maria and her late husband, is a physical thing that touches you immediately. As long as Maria is alive and I have the ability, this garden will go on. It is spooky, but I feel the old man's presence whenever I got into the yard. I always say hello and ask permission to work in there before I go about whatever I am doing. I am not usually weird that way, but his presence is so strong that I feel that I have to honor it and him....
Anyhow, that's my story and I am sticking to it.....
john(grumpyhug)
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