Annmarie Throckmorton, M.A.
- Aug 16, 2021

In My Own Yard

I will soon be leaving the house that I bought in 2007, fourteen years ago. I bought it because it was close to my parents' house, so that I could care for them in their last stage of life. Also the house was structurally good, aesthetically satisfactory, and had terrific potential for improvement. My work on my house over these years has been both an investment and a labor of love. The yard has been especially delightful to me because when I started my work on it the yard had only a small stand of lilac bushes, a few unkempt shrubs, and an open, empty lawn of grass in between, where I envisioned planting all sort of trees, bushes, and flowers. And so I did. I will miss my plants but I am glad that I started their life here at this nice yellow-brick house.

In 2015 I was still reading books on paper and during a lull in life I searched the world for some pretty bookmarks. But all I found were ugly plastic sticks with images better suited to hallucinogenic nightmares than bedtime readings. So I made my own gentle bookmarks, of flowers in my own yard.