The Seed Shop by Muriel Stuart Here in a quiet and dusty room they lie, Faded as crumbled stone or shifting sand, Forlorn as ashes, shrivelled, scentless, dry - Meadows and gardens running through my hand. In this brown husk a dale of hawthorn dreams; A cedar in this narrow cell is thrust That will drink deeply of a century's streams; These lilies shall make summer on my dust. Here in their safe and simple house of death, Sealed in their shells, a million roses leap; Here I can blow a garden with my breath, And in my hand a forest lies asleep.

Nous garderons dans nos cœurs son sourire, son esprit d'accueil et son amitié. Malgré nos vies disperses, que ce soit au Mozambique, en Suisse ou au Portugal, elle a su cultiver des moments d'échange et de proximité et nous lui devons aussi nôtre sens de cohésion du grand cercle familial. Helena, Paula et Elisabeth(les nièces portugaises) et leur famille

Tante Eliane was one of the kindest, most genuine people I know. She loved her family above all, and her faith and service to others defined her every action. Our family will never forget her kindness in accommodating the 6 of us at Claire Soleil, and the many outings she organized to make our time in Switzerland memorable. We send our deepest sympathies to our cousins and their children and grandchildren at this time. Much love from Andre Kaltenrieder and family.