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i could not believe it, flowers blooming on my deck in new jersey.
the pot comes from brooklyn, it was my grandfather's. he grew beautiful flowers. when i was a boy growing up in brooklyn during the war (WWII) it was grandpa and me everyday. he had a victory garden on the corner of west 3rd street between kings highway and highlawn avenue. i spent my summer days with him and the tomato plants and my dog spot. i wrote a poem about the warm tomatoes and posted it here. i would have lunch with gramps in his wine celler where he had huge wine barrels and in between the barrels he had sweet sausage hanging. we would sit in the dimly lit cold room eating sausage and italian bread and i would taste some of his wine. in the fall my family would steam the tomatoes and peel them and bottle them for the winter. so we had sauce all year long. we never bought sauce. when i sold his home 10 years ago i took the pot. funny how a flower pot can have give you memories. these flowers were given to my wife in the spring, i kept them in the pot and then they died and then again they came back in the fall and in december. so you see things change, the things we think are gone can come back. if a flower can be renewed, why not a human?
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