Kõrgoya

Great Grandmothers' roses have been growing at Kõrgoya for generations - through invasions and Czars, through Nazis and deportations to Siberia. Not quite sure who planted them, but it was a grandmother somewhere up the line, and grandmothers have nourished and treasured them through the generations. The apostrophe is strangely located in this title, but perfectly appropriate! The first time I saw the huge bush that these roses grow on, it had just rained, and I was seeking relief from the long drive from the capital city (Tallinn) to the family farm in Tori, Estonia. Outhouse; rosebush; bare feet on dirt farmed by family since the 1500's. Tears of joy and nurture and healing as eyes drank in the horizon of the distant river.

Mari's Favorite Wildflower: Mari is my grandmother's cousin; they are descended from the same father but different mothers. Mari is a talented poet, a survivor of the "Russian times" and a strong, clear presence with strong arms and a big heart. We don't speak a common language, but as we walked up from the river through the pasture which is full of wildflowers, she was able to clearly communicate that she wanted me to take a picture of this flower, which is an inch wide.