I first found this old jar full of rose petals several years ago, while cleaning out my grandparents’ basement. I vaguely remember placing it on the shelf between the two giant sets of doors that Grampa Ralph drove his school bus through.
A few months ago, I stumbled across it again. Mr. Wonderful and I tackled the basement last fall, and somehow, this didn’t get thrown away, even though the glass jar had at some point fallen from the shelf and broken. The light from the naked bulb in the 10-foot ceiling was just enough to make out a handwritten note in pencil taped to the jar.
I brought the jar up the steep steps (hand-hewn by Grampa Ralph I assume), to the sunny living room corner windows.
The note reads: “Petals from the boquet of Red Roses Ralph gave me one Mother’s Day. M.P.”
Ever thrifty, the note was written on a piece of scratch paper.
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