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This is a blossom on the little cherry tree in our front yard. Our friend Agnes bought it the day after Jo Ann died, for us to plant in her memory.
Despite the drought hardened soil, we managed to dig a hole large enough to plant it, and I watered the tree every day the local water rationing rules allowed.
It obviously survived the winter. I guess it was the fertilizer spikes I pounded in the ground at the drip line in October.
Mike told me that he didn't know if it would bloom the first year, but that if it did, I better take pictures so he could see.
So here you go, bro. I love you. Have a great trip.
Clicking the image will take you to its Flickr page. You can see a larger version there.
We were born before the wind Also younger than the sun Ere the bonnie boat was won as we sailed into the mystic Hark, now hear the sailors cry Smell the sea and feel the sky Let your soul and spirit fly into the mystic And when that fog horn blows I will be coming home And when that fog horn blows I want to hear it I don't have to fear it I want to rock your gypsy soul Just like way back in the days of old Then magnificently we will float into the mystic And when that fog horn blows you know I will be coming home And when thst fog horn whistle blows I got to hear it I don't have to fear it I want to rock your gypsy soul Just like way back in the days of old And together we will float into the mystic Come on girl...
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