There Once Was a Girl

There Once Was a Girl/With a Little Yellow Curl/Right in the Middle of Her Forehead. /When She Was Good, She Was Very, Very Good... But When She Was Bad, She Was HORRID! ~ Mother Goose

My grandma Gerry always used to recite this rhyme to me...when I was a little girl, a big girl, and grown woman. Sometimes I'd ask for it, literally and figuratively, other times, I didn't. She was a consummate humorist, and would speak to me in her sort-of-deep, sort-of-light, sort-of-gravely, full-of-life voice, with a twinkle in her Irish blue eyes, a half-grin on her face, a shake of her head and a wave of her finger, and a raising and lengthening of HORRID! and a shortening of forehead so it rhymed. It's suited me well all these years, this sentiment. I am thinking of her this soft October day, remembering her patience, her solidity, her big, big love. This is a picture of me in her rose garden...almost rose garden...for we were digging, digging, digging, to plant the seeds of the roses that would grow and grow and grow. She had a quarter acre of roses in her yard, right in the center of the half acre where we played badmitton and had parties and laughed, and laughed, and laughed. That half-acre is a jungle now. But the sun still shines there, and her spirit fills the place, and if you squint, or close your eyes, you can see the rows and rows and rows of roses pink and yellow and white and red, red, red. Happy October!