Beauty Flower: Butterfly Flower Wallpaper

Butterfly Flower Wallpaper

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In one instance, when shopping there with my children, we asked for bagels; the store owner said that he had heard of them, but no, he didn’t have any... my citified children were flabbergasted and giggled about that for years.

On this particular visit, it was a sunny but chilly day. The calendar said spring would soon arrive, but the melting snow said, “Not so fast!” As I drove along Main Street, a certain building caught my eye -- the town barbershop, still in use. The other buildings were drab and dirty, showing their age, but this building, even though it was old, was blinding white and welcoming on the sunny side of the street. I looked closer and noticed the beautiful colors of flowers; the large, storefront windows were full of pots of beautiful red, pink, and salmon colored geraniums, waiting patiently until warmer weather arrived and they could be set outside. How Mom would have loved to have seen these jewels!

I had to stop. I knew in my heart that this was a special moment. Since I was an outsider and know how small town folks tend to be, I thought it best to first step in, say “Hello”, and be friendly and honest about what I wanted. As I pulled open the creaking screen door, and gave the heavy, glass-front door a push, a bell tinkled overhead and a little old lady greeted me. I commented on how beautiful her flowers were, and asked if she minded if I took a picture. She thanked me, gave me permission, and I stepped back outside and began snapping away.

That day, as I drove past the establishments, I thought of Mom, and even though she died a few years ago, and even though I know full well that she is in heaven praising her Lord, I wanted to imagine that at any moment I'd see her coming out of the grocery store or post office, carrying a sack or her mail. She would stop and laugh and talk with someone she had passed on the street--- she never knew a stranger.

As I left town, I realized that I didn't see Mom on the street that day as I passed through, or even on her front porch as I drove past her former home, but I like to think that this very special moment, this chance encounter with the flowers, was just for me -- just a little gift to a daughter from her Mother. I had to stop. I knew in my heart that this was a special moment. Since I was an outsider and know how small town folks tend to be, I thought it best to first step in, say “Hello”, and be friendly and honest about what I wanted. As I pulled open the creaking screen door, and gave the heavy, glass-front door a push, a bell tinkled overhead and a little old lady greeted me. I commented on how beautiful her flowers were, and asked if she minded if I took a picture. She thanked me, gave me permission, and I stepped back outside and began snapping away.

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