Thinking of my Momaw today.  She could grow the most gorgeous African violets on the table under her front window.  I remember gently touching their fuzzy green leaves when I was a little girl, and hearing my mom praise her gift for growing them so beautifully. I'm certainly not known for my green thumb (rather, I am the girl with the black thumb who allowed a cactus to wither in her "care").  But I have high hopes that my sunny north-facing office window will give this little girl plenty of sunshine.  Our house is certainly warm enough for her, and since she's on my desk, it should be easier for me to remember to water her.  (Unlike the unfortunate plants on my back porch... the ones that are sadly neglected because I forget that they're there.  Oops.)

If nothing else, this pretty little violet is a beautiful reminder of my Momaw each day, and the memories I have surrounding her and my Popaw, and their tiny green house in Kentucky.  Oftentimes I wish they still lived in that little green house with the pitched roof, the beautiful silver maples in the yard, the crabapple trees and the tire swing... but I also know that God meant for things to be the way they are now.  So that is enough for me.  I'm glad He gives us the gift of memories, though. Mine sure are sweet.