People ask me a lot of questions about my garden. When did I start it? What is this flower? How do you fertilize? I love that people care enough to inquire about what my views or opinions are. However, when I look at my garden, I see so much more than just the beauty that greets me or the work I need to complete. I see memories; I remember people and places and times that are etched in my brain permanently. Many of those people are no longer with me, yet they are forever with me in my garden. I would like to share some of those memories with you.Many of you know that I began my garden in earnest in 2006 after losing my precious son, Ryan, in a horrific car accident. He was 18 and losing him was and still is, the hardest thing I have had to endure in my life. He and I were close, and I am so thankful for that. After his death, there were times when I would spend entire days, sunup to sundown digging, planting and rearranging to keep my hands busy as my mind grappled with the reality that my "RyGuy" was gone. My small garden paradise is a testament to how each of us finds a way to come to terms with pain in our lives. I found a peace and serenity in surrounding myself with beauty. Every flower I planted, every butterfly I saw reminded me that there was Someone higher than me that cared and felt my pain. Many were the tears I cried while out there. To this day, I still weep at times. I find comfort in my garden and it soothes me.
I also have flowers in my garden that remind me of other loved ones. My mother has been gone for 12 years now, yet every spring I see her again when the lilacs bloom. She loved her lilac bushes; in fact, I remember well the day she called me in a panic because a neighbor was going to have the bushes cut down because they blocked his property line. She cried and begged me to come and get some before they were gone. So off we went, hubby and I,equipped with shovels and pots and we dug up several lilac bushes with the help of my tenacious nephew, Jamie, who was then 4 or 5 and always a hard worker. I planted those bushes and always had the goal of passing on some of them for my 4 siblings when they would have homes of their own. Later, in 2005. when I was forced to move to my current home, I made sure that those bushes came with me. My son, Ryan, and my nephew, Alan, helped me to dig them up and plant them at my sisters until my new home would be ready. My nephew and I laugh about that ride with the bushes in the back now. There were spiders everywhere and I thought for sure we would get in an accident if one even came close to crawling on me! We spent the 20+ mile trip screaming, jumping and laughing nervously as I recall. Funny now but scary then.I have 4 of those lilacs with me here. I gave one to each of my brothers and I gave one to my youngest sister. Circumstances have made it necessary to replenish those. Each one passed on reminds me of my dear mother. This year, for the first time, I had the scent of lilacs in my bedroom while they bloomed just outside of my window. Their fragrance lulled me to sleep and helped me remember. A dear woman gone much too soon...
I also plant zinnias every year. Yes, because I love them but they also remind me of both my father and my maternal grandmother. Zinnias were my grandmothers favorite flower. I was old enough to remember how she would get bouquets of them from my mother picked fresh from our garden where my father grew them like wildflowers. Each Spring, he would scatter seeds harvested from the ones the year before and there would be hundreds of them in our yard! All different colors and such healthy plants. He would have to support them with sticks and string to keep them from drooping. I remember always watching the butterflies that would feed from them and I think it was then that butterflies became my favorite creatures. I used to wonder where they went; what it would be like to fly free like they do. So when I see zinnias, I see so much more than just a flower. I see my father and my grandmother, both also gone too soon...
I have gorgeous bleeding hearts here in my garden every Spring. They grow large and full, covered with beautiful fronds of delicate hearts. They are so beautiful; I have several here now; all taken from one plant. A plant I used to mark the resting spot for my daughters beloved Elroy, her first cat, one we had with us for 16 years. He was a gorgeous male tabby that my mom raised as a kitten whose mother was run over by a car. Originally Elroy was mine, but Jessica soon became his favorite person, his keeper. To Ryan he was "Senor Kitty Cat" as he called him but he was Jessica's friend. That cat was a piece of work. I will never forget how he would climb trees as a kitten and not be able to get down. He was rescued once after surviving through a thunderstorm. We used to laugh about hearing his loud "Meowww!" over the claps of thunder and the pouring rain and wind. He got himself stuck in another tree for nearly two weeks and people would ask us if the cat had gotten down yet. Jess would do everything to try to cajole him down; hubby refused to let us get him. Tough love that was. We believe to this day that he finally fell down; we never saw him in a tree again after that.
Elroy proved to me that cats are affected by pain in a family When Ryan died, Elroy would sit by the front door or on Ryan's bed and cry for him. He did that for days and it would tear us up to watch him hurt, too. When he died I buried him in my rear garden and Jessica requested bleeding hearts and forget-me-nots to mark his grave. Appropriate flowers. They grow there to this day and we are always reminded of our dear feline friend, Elroy.
So you see, friends, I have so much more than a garden here. I have memories enough to write a book. I get to have loved ones with me even after they've been gone for so long. I am reminded that there is beauty to be found even while in pain; that life goes on despite what we may encounter along its path. Our memories are what make us who we are. I hope that my memories have made me a better person; I hope that they will stay with me to keep me company in "my small garden paradise".
