Day 200: As I walk around my yard, I can't help but notice how strongly my choice of plants has been influenced by what was in my grandmother's garden. When I began selecting perennials for the beds, my "must-have" flowers were almost exclusively those I had seen in cultivation before I had attained the ripe old age of five. I recall clearly sitting on her back porch step, enveloped in a thick perfume of Lily-of-the-Valley, and braiding coronets of the stiff, arching stems of Bridal Wreath Spiraea. No garden of her era was complete without Bachelor's Buttons and Columbine, nor without single Hollyhocks growing against a sunny back wall. Ironically, it was my grandfather who was the gardener; my grandmother simply reaped the rewards, and although the garden dwindled after Grandpa's death, my association with sweet-smelling, beautiful flowers is firmly tied to her.
No comments:
Post a Comment