My Pop

He might not be here in person anymore but every time I make a pie, cake, waffle, pancake, pudding or cobbler I'll think of him. Same goes for every time I eat a peach, plant a peach tree or berry vine, pick a flower (particularly lilacs) or drive a ride-on mower. Also, every time I see parrots eating fruit from the trees, kangaroos straying into places they shouldn't, sheep losing their tails, the wind picking up, meteorological instruments, a flute, clouds, bottles of whisky and now baileys, bougainvilleas, tupelos, old tractors, beaten up brown pants, blue checked shirts, someone fencing, croquet mallets, fish ponds, petunias, long hoses that could reach across a paddock, keys on the back of a door, peach pops, youngberry anything, geese, bridges over ponds, neat yet odd American gardens and the dawn well after I'm actually awake. Not to mention anyone driving like a lunatic to check the post.


Long live Pop in all of us. He was a darling and always managed to say just the right thing to cheer me up and make me feel human again when I was miserable. He also taught me a great deal and showed me that real men love support their women without hesitation, arguments and life's ups and downs taken into account, and can also take a few orders while they're at it. All golden heart, blasting temperament and unbeaten energy he was and he loved nothing better than to be doted on by the girls. So of course we all did.

Time to make some peach cobbler I believe and think of Pop.