My Grandma Emma Rose loved gardening and growing roses. She sold them at the local Farmer’s Market.
Playfully, she’d say, “Roses are as pretty as me. My momma said so.”
One day, a fella came by with some mint plants. He told her it could fetch her more money than roses. They grew tall and sturdy. She said it made a real nice sweet tea.
Abandoned and neglected after she passed, I decided to clean up her greenhouse. The mint had taken over everywhere. Ironically, it wasn’t mint but Cannabis.
Looks like Grandma Emma Rose was ahead of her time.
Bob Marley – Three Little Birds
Genre: Flash Fiction
Word Count: 100 words
Photo Prompt:©Bill Reynolds
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