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Welcome to A Writer’s Garden where writers who are gardeners or just love gardens will be sharing their garden and flower stories, as well as a bit about their writing. Today’s writer/gardener guest is Carole Brown. Carole will be sharing her sweet memories of flowers and those sweet people who’ve given them to her. Welcome, Carole!

Sweet Memories of Flowers

Hubby and I celebrated another anniversary this August, and as usual I received a card and flowers from him. That may seem like a mundane comment, but it’s anything but that. Every year I think the card he gives is the best one yet. Here are a few words from his card:

I hope you already know just how amazing you are to me, but on our anniversary I thought I’d tell you again, because you’re incredibly special—and I love you very much.

Every year, I love the flowers he gives me, but then I love all the flowers he gives me, whether it’s anniversary time, Valentines, or whenever. Today I wanted to share a few pictures of plants and flowers I’ve received through the years and/or some wild ones that we’ve admired together.

I never know what color of roses he’ll choose, but I ahh over them because he loves me and gave them to me. This year, he surprised me with pink roses: 

Here is a picture I took of a milkweed plant near our home. When I spotted it one day, I knew I had to get a picture of it. The butterfly was an extra bonus. Beautiful, isn’t it, in its wildness?

Flowers Hubby helped Grandson pick for me. Mismatched and uneven stems, but gorgeous because of who gave them to me. Flowers have meanings. To me, these spoke of a child’s love for a grandparent and a love of a grandfather who took time to help that grandson share.

Wild flowers are some of my favorites! Here are two different bouquets of wild flowers at two different times. I’m always amazed at the combinations of colors Hubby comes up with.

While visiting with a friend near the lake, we went to the Butterfly garden. It was a quiet, peaceful period, enjoying some of God’s creations. Here’s a beauty we spotted while there: 

And, last but not least, our beginning where we learned to share, to love the flowers around us. This is my wedding bouquet. White flowers for purity. Yellow for sunshine and happiness.

I really do believe that flowers are some of God’s best earthly gifts to us. What’s your favorite flower?


Besides being a member and active participant of many writing groups, Carole Brown enjoys mentoring beginning writers. An author of ten books, she loves to weave suspense and tough topics into her books, along with a touch of romance and whimsy, and is always on the lookout for outstanding titles and catchy ideas. She and her husband reside in SE Ohio but have ministered and counseled nationally and internationally. Together, they enjoy their grandsons, traveling, gardening, good food, the simple life, and did she mention their grandsons?

 Connect with Carole on her Personal blog, Facebook Fan Page, Twitter, or Bookbub


            By Carole Brown

The big cat sat on the oversized rock, ears pointed toward the sky, every muscle taut, every sense at the ready.

“S-s-shut up and f-f-forget it. You’ve s-seen nothing and know nothing. I won’t warn you again. G-g-got it?”

The cat’s head swiveled, his ears twitching as if catching the hint of threat in the whisper. A soft hiss slid from his open mouth and reinforced the overtone of evil pressing in upon the scene. Within hours, lies and dark secrets are slithering all over the campground.

Coaxed into finding the animal killer at Jamieson’s Outfitters, Tara Layne, with her sidekick, Boet, is welcomed by a threatening whisper and the unfriendly eyes of a rugged and devastatingly handsome manager. Wesley Clarke, both interesting and frustrating, holds an attraction for Tara that is both primitive and exasperating.

Intermingled with her search, Tara deals with her own heartbreaking buried secrets. When a strange old Native American probes into the recesses of her heart, he encourages her to face her bitter feelings.

As Tara closes in on her search, she finds herself—and Boet—the target of someone who’s determined to outrun and outsmart her. Someone determined not to get caught.

His theme: 

Fun as fast as you can, you can’t catch me.

The question:

Can Tara run fast enough to catch this real live Gingerbread boy

before he decides to get rid of her and Boet?

Buy Link:   Amazon