The Breast Blog: African Violets

I spent the morning in a massive complex of greenhouses, filled with blossoming African Violets. The humid air and bright atmosphere loosened my hips and relaxed my walk. Tannis, my plant science technician by day, musician by night friend, escorted me on the excursion. She was stripped down to a tank top in no time, white, bare arms swinging loosely at her side.

I wanted to sit myself down for the day, maybe sip on a fruity cocktail and bask in the riot of colour and thick, warm air. Ah....winter in Canada....makes the slightest sense of summer seem so spectacular.

The millions of African Violets made me think of my Granny Marshall. She was 96 when she died and in good health right up to her last few weeks. One of the larger residents of my Grannies nursing home lost her balance and fell on Granny, breaking her hip. She died shortly thereafter.

Granny always had a hanky, embroidered with violets, tucked into her bra. I blew my nose on it many times as a child. She wiped lots of my tears away. And sometimes, she would have hard candies wrapped inside as a special treat for me.

One experience can open a floodgate of memories. Guess I'm spending the day with Granny.

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