Beauty & Ick

After I took my dad out to lunch, I went into his backyard to look at what is left of my grandmother's flower garden. For many years, she'd escape to the yard to take care of her roses. It wasn't a huge garden by any means, but it reminded me of the pictures of British Columbia that she showed me once in a while. It made me think about how homesick she must have been at times.

My dad said there was a really pretty rose in the garden, so I went to go see it, especially since I had my camera.

This is the rose:


Then I saw another rose:


Next year, if my dad still has the house I think I might start to revive the garden. It is one of the major things I miss about my grandmom. We used to spend a lot of time out there when I was younger. Most of the time, when I was little, I had a hand shovel and it was my job to find pebbles in the side yard. My grandmother used them in the bottom of her flower pots (so the plants could breathe).

The ick? This was literally glued to my dad's windshield (he got the glue off).


My dad hasn't a real clue about the who this is or the hateful message behind these beliefs. Thank goodness. I was kind of troubled to see this thing, to be honest.