My momma didn’t raise no fool, now. No fairytales or Easter-bunnies for me, no siree, just the unadulterated truth. She told me how it is from day one. She let me know about the birds and them rascally bees and told me about the compost and that more fragrant fertilizer. Practical and scientific, she made sure I put everything to its best use. Why, people call our yard a trash heap, but I say it’s the raw material of inspiration.
Momma’s dying words asked me to plant a flower for her. I know what’s what and found the perfect place.
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