A Rose for Remembrance

We’ve just planted a yellow rose, given to us by my sister when, with her husband, she joined Mrs Llew and me yesterday for a superb Italian meal, lavish with sea food. A day earlier we had, with much  happiness, dined with our elder daughter and her husband at our town’s iconic 16th Century main hotel.

We took a lot of trouble with the rose, soaking it before putting it in the earth, excavating a nurturing, compost-filled home for it by our front porch. Mrs Llew has method! She coaxed rough stones out of the ground. She took care not to damage any underground pipes. She knelt to attend to the detail and scorned my worries that she’d get rheumatism in her knees. And there, with its tiny green shoots, is the heavily pruned yellow rose, waiting for the Spring.

It will probably outlive us at this friendly house. It will have its own story which future dwellers here may not know. But we know, Mrs Llew and I.

In our back garden are two mulberry trees, scions of Shakespeare’s mulberry at Stratford-upon-Avon. That represents the story of another family.

And then there are the meadowsweet, wild irises and spur valerian, the ancestors of which lived in the lanes of  South Devon, where my parents lived.

Outward and visible signs of our passage through life. And that of our forebears. And friends.

The yellow rose marks a golden wedding. Of  which I have written recently.

 The anniversary of Mrs Llew and me.

Advertisements
This entry was posted in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to A Rose for Remembrance

  1. Valerie Freer says:

    And at least one faithful reader noted your anniversary with you & Mrs. Llew & can only now send greeting & best wishes (much more belated than intended) for the next (at least) quarter century of blessing…

    Fifty years! Golden years – your writing continues to be solace to the soul – in this time when so much fails, the testimony & grace of your marriage inspires & comforts – and gives back more than you can know. I speak, I am sure, for many who read with me & have not had that moment to send greeting…

    You are about the age of my own father – cannot tell how much your words have meant to me. So I fall back to the ancient words of prayer – and pray that God will continue the work He has begun in your lives – to bless & to heal. If the prayers of another father’s daughter, quarter a world away, can be heard – and I know they can, even if only in the fits & starts that most of us pray – may God continue in His work to bless your family & to heal…

    Thank you again for your words & memories, shared with all who read…

    • lleweton says:

      Valerie, what you say here is truly helpful. As I have said to Mrs Llew – and I am not fishing for compliments – I am always in doubt as to whether my posts may seem/be pretentious. As you know, I began them because of a need to get a message across … and from that there came the thought that, as they developed, they might chime with the wider life experiences of others, maybe especially of my generation. That they should give comfort is more than I could have imagined and I am grateful for that.

      Thank you for your prayers. I know what you mean about ‘fits and starts. I’m the same. Your description of them in that way is testimony to their reality. In turn I thank God for your support and prayers.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s