You garden memories touched me deeply. I’m taking a moment before I go to tend my mother’s garden. She has said once she passes away she hopes we remember her for her flowers. We will remember her for much more than her pretty, neat garden but while she is still with us, I’ll do all I can to keep it blooming inspite of aphids, deer, moles and rabbits…. Japaneses beetles and boxwood mites. Seems like more pests get added to the list every year. Today we marveled at the father house finch as he bravely flew in repeatedly to feed 4 hungry hatchlings directly under mom’s awning, 6 feet away from us. At 92, mom is needing our help every morning and evening. Some days she is so uncomfortable she prays to be taken soon. Most days she is perky and grateful by 3:00, after resting and all her meds. I am grateful every day to still have her wisdom and smile. She always was in kitchen when we would visit as adults. Mom would drop everything and run to the door to greet me. I always felt like the most special person in the world. I am so grateful to be pulling weeds, watering daily and getting my hands dirty while she enjoys the devoted father house finch!
It is very intriguing to consider those things we carry with us as reminders of those who have gone before us: flowers, recipes, photographs, journals. I've been thinking a lot about this lately because I just entered the cusp before age 80. I think we should think about our lives in three realms that also encompass past, present and future: Knowledge, Celebration and Inspiration. We need to strive to know what is our history, we need to find ways to celebrate especially what has been overlooked and ignored but is so very important, and we need to find the best ways to inspire new generations to act with this knowledge and why it truly matters.
Transplanting flowers from our loved ones is an excellent way to keep their memory alive. I did that when my aunt & uncle passed. I dug up some of their lilies and hostas and now when I look at how they’re thriving in my yard I feel I’ve given something back to them… like I’m extending their existence here. It’s also soothes my heart to dwell on their memories for a bit.
I don’t have any of the original plants from past family gardens. When my mom sold our house after my dad passed away, she moved to a condo, and I went off to a college dorm, so there was no option to move any plants that meant something to me. Still, I’ve acquired various flowers and other plants that remind me of certain family members, like the very dark purple irises my dad loved, the rhubarb my grandmother grew (and my sister & I snacked on all summer), the rhododendrons we had in the side yard when I was very young. I have a hillside full of daffodils and day lilies that I first started planting with money my godmother left me.
My next big garden project is to lift that bed and move the contents further down the hill, as the upper 8 feet or so is about to get a front deck over it, as we restore the original front door to the house (replaced by a window when the house was moved here over 40 years ago), making access to the house finally visible from the street. The current ‘front door’ as actually on the side of the house, hidden from the road. It will be nice to put a more welcoming ‘face’ on our home. I’ll add a couple of pink ‘Fairy’ roses out front on either side of the new stairs, like my great grandmother’s cottage used to have. I’ll think of long ago family gatherings every time I smell their fragrance, or clip a few for a vase on my desk.
I have daffodils everywhere and some are in a forest bordering our property. I think they are many decades old and grew before there was so much shade. So every spring I stake them with little yellow flags so I can remember where they are in the fall, then I dig them up and plant them elsewhere.
I’m going to be moving my daffs soon, once the last blooms fade. Not ideal, but at least easier to locate. Thanks for the reminder about daffs in shady places, - there’s a small group of them up by our shed path (that leads to our neighbor’s house). I picked up some lilies of the valley that will be much happier in that well-shaded location, so once the 8-or-so daffs are out of there, the lilies can be set in their place.
My English mother-in-law loved rhubarb, and she asked me to raise a plant for her so she could make pies. I purchased one, and planted it. In the spring, my mother-in-law asked me if the rhubarb had come up. "No," I told her. "Maybe next year," she mused. I planted rhubarb for several years, and it never came up. Her response was always, "well, luv, maybe next year." My mother-in-law, who called me her daughter-in-love, had a massive cerebral hemorrhage, and died the next morning. The next spring, the Rosemary's rhubarb emerged, lifting it's leaves upward. It never grew again.
I love this story. The tiny patch of lawn in front of our house never had a decent lawn. Even grass struggled to grow there. Well, two days after Mom died, damned if the lushest growth of grass didn’t take over the front yard! By the time of her funeral Mass, it looked like a golf course!
My grandmother had rosebushes in the front yard, near the house, but the periwinkle blue hydrangeas exploded and tumbled over the fence that framed the house, covering up the ugly chain link and beckoning everyone near to touch and smell and marvel at these beautiful blue pom-poms. Every time I see a hydrangea, I say, "Hello, VaVoa."
Flowers hold so many memories: my grandmother with her rose bushes in Bayside, my father announcing the forsythias were in bloom every spring and my mother-in-law with her many lilacs. Beautiful piece Maura.
Oh Maura, I got chills as I read about the flowers blooming and appearing in unexpected places. How much joy and how many memories that must bring you. Keep having fun in the sun!
You garden memories touched me deeply. I’m taking a moment before I go to tend my mother’s garden. She has said once she passes away she hopes we remember her for her flowers. We will remember her for much more than her pretty, neat garden but while she is still with us, I’ll do all I can to keep it blooming inspite of aphids, deer, moles and rabbits…. Japaneses beetles and boxwood mites. Seems like more pests get added to the list every year. Today we marveled at the father house finch as he bravely flew in repeatedly to feed 4 hungry hatchlings directly under mom’s awning, 6 feet away from us. At 92, mom is needing our help every morning and evening. Some days she is so uncomfortable she prays to be taken soon. Most days she is perky and grateful by 3:00, after resting and all her meds. I am grateful every day to still have her wisdom and smile. She always was in kitchen when we would visit as adults. Mom would drop everything and run to the door to greet me. I always felt like the most special person in the world. I am so grateful to be pulling weeds, watering daily and getting my hands dirty while she enjoys the devoted father house finch!
Mary, you are so blessed to have your sweet mama! Thank you for reading. Flowers bring out memories, don’t they?
It is very intriguing to consider those things we carry with us as reminders of those who have gone before us: flowers, recipes, photographs, journals. I've been thinking a lot about this lately because I just entered the cusp before age 80. I think we should think about our lives in three realms that also encompass past, present and future: Knowledge, Celebration and Inspiration. We need to strive to know what is our history, we need to find ways to celebrate especially what has been overlooked and ignored but is so very important, and we need to find the best ways to inspire new generations to act with this knowledge and why it truly matters.
You inspire me all the time, Margaret!
Transplanting flowers from our loved ones is an excellent way to keep their memory alive. I did that when my aunt & uncle passed. I dug up some of their lilies and hostas and now when I look at how they’re thriving in my yard I feel I’ve given something back to them… like I’m extending their existence here. It’s also soothes my heart to dwell on their memories for a bit.
I completely agree!
I love bleeding heart plants - and the story of your mother's garden. I'm heading out this morning into mine. Thanks, Maura.
Get your hands dirty! Thank you for reading, Susan!
I don’t have any of the original plants from past family gardens. When my mom sold our house after my dad passed away, she moved to a condo, and I went off to a college dorm, so there was no option to move any plants that meant something to me. Still, I’ve acquired various flowers and other plants that remind me of certain family members, like the very dark purple irises my dad loved, the rhubarb my grandmother grew (and my sister & I snacked on all summer), the rhododendrons we had in the side yard when I was very young. I have a hillside full of daffodils and day lilies that I first started planting with money my godmother left me.
My next big garden project is to lift that bed and move the contents further down the hill, as the upper 8 feet or so is about to get a front deck over it, as we restore the original front door to the house (replaced by a window when the house was moved here over 40 years ago), making access to the house finally visible from the street. The current ‘front door’ as actually on the side of the house, hidden from the road. It will be nice to put a more welcoming ‘face’ on our home. I’ll add a couple of pink ‘Fairy’ roses out front on either side of the new stairs, like my great grandmother’s cottage used to have. I’ll think of long ago family gatherings every time I smell their fragrance, or clip a few for a vase on my desk.
I have daffodils everywhere and some are in a forest bordering our property. I think they are many decades old and grew before there was so much shade. So every spring I stake them with little yellow flags so I can remember where they are in the fall, then I dig them up and plant them elsewhere.
I’m going to be moving my daffs soon, once the last blooms fade. Not ideal, but at least easier to locate. Thanks for the reminder about daffs in shady places, - there’s a small group of them up by our shed path (that leads to our neighbor’s house). I picked up some lilies of the valley that will be much happier in that well-shaded location, so once the 8-or-so daffs are out of there, the lilies can be set in their place.
Thanks for the tale of your beautiful blossoms.
Thank you, sweet Roberta!
My English mother-in-law loved rhubarb, and she asked me to raise a plant for her so she could make pies. I purchased one, and planted it. In the spring, my mother-in-law asked me if the rhubarb had come up. "No," I told her. "Maybe next year," she mused. I planted rhubarb for several years, and it never came up. Her response was always, "well, luv, maybe next year." My mother-in-law, who called me her daughter-in-love, had a massive cerebral hemorrhage, and died the next morning. The next spring, the Rosemary's rhubarb emerged, lifting it's leaves upward. It never grew again.
I love this story. The tiny patch of lawn in front of our house never had a decent lawn. Even grass struggled to grow there. Well, two days after Mom died, damned if the lushest growth of grass didn’t take over the front yard! By the time of her funeral Mass, it looked like a golf course!
My grandmother had rosebushes in the front yard, near the house, but the periwinkle blue hydrangeas exploded and tumbled over the fence that framed the house, covering up the ugly chain link and beckoning everyone near to touch and smell and marvel at these beautiful blue pom-poms. Every time I see a hydrangea, I say, "Hello, VaVoa."
My son-in-law is Portuguese and he calls his grandmother the same name! My daughter did, too!
Yup, that's Portuguese and Azorean and Brazilian (or, sometimes avo)
Flowers hold so many memories: my grandmother with her rose bushes in Bayside, my father announcing the forsythias were in bloom every spring and my mother-in-law with her many lilacs. Beautiful piece Maura.
Thank you, my friend!
What a beautiful essay.
What a lovely, grace-filled story. Thank you so much for posting the memories and the photos. The gardener in me found joy in your memory plants.
I like that - memory plants! Thank you!
Beautiful Maura
Beautiful story Maura, wrapped in idyllic poetry. Thank you for sharing it with us.
Thank you, Ron!
Beautiful
Oh Maura, I got chills as I read about the flowers blooming and appearing in unexpected places. How much joy and how many memories that must bring you. Keep having fun in the sun!
Your mother and mine would have been fast friends. Mum could plant seeds on that parking lot that would have bloomed despite the conditions.