Friday, 8 May 2015
'Rosemary for Remembrance'
One dismal November day in 1997 my Dad collected sprigs of various shrubs from his garden for my Mum's coffin.. 'There's rosemary, that's for remembrance'...
Years later I cut a branch from the same bush, though it had been moved to a dryer side of the garden, the bleak January day my sister and I locked up the house for the last time and took the key to the estate agent.
The rosemary survived a couple of cold days in the car; I cut sprigs and rooted them in pots of water in Cambridge. A few survived my indifferent potting-up skills, that chaotic spring and summer and one survived the move to the west coast...
... and survived drought, westerly salt winds and neglect... I'm proud and not a little amazed, to see growth and flowers on the little shrub this week.
And, in the early hours, I reflect - rosemary is a tenacious little shrub I muse, and will survive the worst that the salt winds can chuck at us. Remembrance will survive the worst life will throw our way - outlast loss and loss of memories and life itself ..