An Azalea in the Garden

My neighborhood gave me a beautiful azalea plant in sympathy after my dad passed away.  I planted it in a nice shady spot in the garden, and then nestled myself in for a photo.   It's not obvious in this picture, but this azalea has very unusual flowers that are half white and half purple/lavender.  (It's not the azalea directly in front of me, but rather the one to my left, more in the front center of the image).

  

It's no surprise that I've been thinking about my dad a great deal. I've been reticent about writing about him, since his passing.  I admit, I feel as though I need to write something perfect, because my love for him demands I use my skills as best as I can (and as if I have this one and only one opportunity to remember him.)   Of course, nothing makes writing more difficult than layering expectations before you even get started.

But I would like to share one small piece I wrote.  For several years now, I have been a regular contributor to my children's preschool newsletter, "The Mamas and Papas", at Kodomo No Ie Preschool (Japanese for  "House of Children").   Obviously I write my articles in English and they are translated to Japanese.  I should clarify that this school is like a slice of Japan here in nearby San Gabriel California (different from, say, an American school that teaches the Japanese language).  The school is run as though it would be run in Japan, and everything about it is entirely Japanese.  It's been a great experience for my sons, and a wonderful cultural exchange for me.  I am fortunate that a few of the parents translate school notices and whatnot for us.

Apologies for the long introduction, but I suppose it gives you some idea about my audience for the original piece.  It's about dirt.  And it's about my dad.