My Dad's favorite flower was the daffodil. When Daddy and his brother Howard were just young boys they cut stovewood to heat Mama Gibson's house. Some folks call it firewood, Daddy called it stovewood. As a kid, Daddy loved to see the daffodils bloom because it meant he and Howard would not have to cut much more stovewood, since Spring was right around the corner.
Many women of that era married men from Union Grove who worked hard, bought land, homes and cars that did not reek of spilled beer. Through their vows, and some luck, they made good lives and had decent things that had never been worn or used before. Mama Gibson, bless her heart, chose badly, and the years of doing without left scars on her two oldest sons.
A year before Daddy died of Alzheimers Disease, he commented on the daffodils blooming when I took him for a ride down to Parches Cove.
The daffodil is now my favorite flower. - Sandra Gibson
Many women of that era married men from Union Grove who worked hard, bought land, homes and cars that did not reek of spilled beer. Through their vows, and some luck, they made good lives and had decent things that had never been worn or used before. Mama Gibson, bless her heart, chose badly, and the years of doing without left scars on her two oldest sons.
A year before Daddy died of Alzheimers Disease, he commented on the daffodils blooming when I took him for a ride down to Parches Cove.
The daffodil is now my favorite flower. - Sandra Gibson
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