^ Hello, possums!

I bought a bunch of gladioli on Friday. My pappa used to grow gladis back on our farm in his garden. He'd come up from the garden with arm-fulls of them, all sorts of colours and varieties. All of them gorgeous, especially some of the hybrid multi-coloured ones.

This afternoon I accidentally had a nanna-nap while reading and ended up dreaming about both my Nanna and Pappa, who are both dead. In the dream, it was back on the farm and I was looking for my dog. My Pappa was down in the wooded area near their house and I ran up to him, embraced him and kissed his cheek, telling him how much I loved him. I could feel the scratchy stubble he almost always had on my cheek. He was gruffly pleased. Then I ran up the yard and around the shed corner and found my Nanna. I hugged and kissed her, again telling her how much I loved her.

All of it was rather strange. But at least it was better than the rest of the dreams during the nanna-nap.

Update: Ended up watching Compass's "Losing The Plots" about Rookwood cemetery tonight. Really interesting, but the people being whiney about "Oh, cemeteries further out of town would be so hard to visit" seemed a little unusual. My grandparents are buried back in the Barossa, hundreds of kilometres away. Now that's hard to visit. Fascinated by the people who are pre-buying their plots to the point of not just having the area picked out, but also tombstones made and engraved with most of the information. And things with how people are so anxious to make sure their ancestors have graves that are big enough to help out with the Sydney rental crisis.

It's obviously true that cemeteries are as much about the living as they are about the dead.