You know how in a waltz, dancers glide across the floor? Well, my thoughts are gliding across the floor this morning, here, 2-3-, there, 2-3-, waltzing into Wednesday.
Yesterday, I went to the library and found three books by favorite authors: Tragic Magic and Postcards From the Dead by Laura Childs; also, Our Lady of Pain by Marion Chesney. Just a few days ago, I finished reading The Secret of the Wooden Lady by Carolyn Keene. This was my very old copy but it is a favorite Nancy Drew. Nautical terms and knowledge of the sea are evident in the author’s writing.
Currently, I am reading 21 Most Effective Prayers of the Bible by Dave Earley and Gone But Knot Forgotten by Mary Marks.
Meandering through the yard yesterday, I enjoyed my bee balm. It is blooming and beautiful again this year. 
Each year, it comes up and grows and spreads a little more. Bees and butterflies love it. I tried to get some picture of the little insects on the blooms but the butterfly sort of blends in and the bee’s posterior is all that shows up.
Herbs are soothing, healing, and lovely. In their new home on Granny Grace’s acres, Flora plants an herb garden. It is right outside her back door. She knows quite a bit about the healthful properties of herbs and enjoys her garden. I hope you will too in this fourth book, Grave Heritage. 
This book follows after Best Left Buried and continues with some of the people and ongoing plans you found there.
Dad used to say, “You are closer to God in a garden than anywhere else in the world.”
Dad and I sat together at the kitchen table in a tiny English village, leafing through seed catalogues, planning our summer garden while rain beat on the windowpane and wind blew an occasional puff of smoke back down the chimney. I still plant our favorite flowers, a whiff of marigolds takes me back to the windows boxes of our cottage. Watering petunias, cascading from planters in my breezeway in the USA, I am standing once again in the garden with Dad. Not for him the wishy washy pale pink and white petunias, he loved the bright red and dark purple hues.
I believe we are closer to God in a garden and the garden also brings me closer to my Dad.
Thank you for stirring another memory, Blanche.
Thank you for that wonderful remembrance, Josephine. Your dad was right, I believe. We are closer to God in a garden.