'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 ..