My Grandma always had an Amaryllis in the house in the winter. Tucked into a dusty corner of the kitchen, beneath the shadow boxes full of salt and pepper shakers and the cuckoo clock, between the record player and the Pieta; it’s one of those things I’ve never forgotten.
This year my Mom picked me up one just before Christmas. It’s finally blooming and I’m overtaken by its beauty. The blooms are even better than I remember.
Hog Farmer. Goose Wrangler. Sustenance Cultivator. Hobby Photographer. Women's Progress Advocator. Wife. Teacher. Mother. Freelance Writer. Unsophisticated Wine Connoisseur. Sister. Speaker. Friend. Butcher. Ruminator. Student. Reluctant Artist. Wannabe Quilter. Chocolate Addict. Gun Enthusiast. 
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Beautiful Diana.
I tried to join you tonight, but the connection failed repeatedly. Skype seemed to be working fine between my computer and my son’s – camera & headset both. Ah well. Perhaps we could try a practice run before the next time?
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