We gave Pat some of my mother's ashes, and I asked whether a teaspoonful could be sprinkled on the bluebells, her favorite spring blooms. (She had dried a few of them on one England visit, and they hang on the wall of the dining room at 364 Washington.) The bluebells were in bloom a full month early in Dorset because of the warm weather. I saw them along the roads; I didn't think to photograph them.
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