The other day, as I dug up and harvested a few, soft, new potatoes from an old waste basket on my deck, I was reminded of Scylla.
Today is her birthday. I believe she would have been 90.
Even though we weren't close, I always feel compelled to mark my maternal grandmother's birthday. Perhaps it is because of our close birthdays. Perhaps it is because the last time I saw her we spent hours talking into the night and she was the most sane, lucid and honest she had EVER been. We parted ways on a good note having learned something about one another finally. Or perhaps it is because our mutal greenthumbs, thriftiness and ingenuity have provided me with some tiny sense of connectedness to a past and a people... that I didn't just drop out of the sky.
I did this little flash thingy MANY, MANY years ago as a tribute to one of my fonder memories of her.