Posted from WordPress for Android as I check the greenhouses.
My granddad’s coffee cup, the one he used to tip coffee into the saucer and slurp down, when hot. the one he would leave lying around the greenhouse during his post dinner venting and heating check. The cup that connects me with him,his greenhouseness, his fathers greenhouse grower instincts and all his bothers and their kids, my distant cousins who work the greenhouse.
The cup representing two centuries to me. I would find it in peculiar places like on top of a mist nozzle, or in a cart to ship plants. How many of our customers kept ordering to get another cup? I would find it near the mist control box. Sometimes in the azalea field where perched on top of the hoe.
It’s the same cup my grandmom would hold to his mouth when the dementia was getting bad, only to have it slapped away.
I am in touch with the past with my cup, and I hope to pass it along some day.