Jun

17

2009

It All Started In My Mother’s Garden

Author: siggy

It is no accident that all of us (my two sisters and I) garden.  It all started in my mother’s garden.  It was such a small garden but what an “oasis”.  She had all kinds of beautiful flowers.  I never forgot those deep red roses she had.

That does not even include our fig tree (I mourn its death), the biggest blackberries I have ever seen and the white grape vine she could not kill and finally gave up.

Even after decades I can almost visualize that garden.  Everything started there.  That does not even include the vegetables she raised.  Years later I became a produce clerk.

My appreciation of beauty started in that garden.  She introduced me to God there.  This is such a short essay.  I can not even begin to state the impact of her garden had on on my life even long after she moved from there (I must say reluctantly).

She has been dead seven years and it has been decades since I left that garden but its impact can still be felt today.

I still love looking at flowers and this year I planted eight tomato plants in pots.  I used to think that New Jersey had the best tomatoes in the whole world.  (Yes, I forgot to mention we also had tomatoes in that garden.)

There is so much I have to thank Mom for the garden she tended so carefully and lovingly.  This is such an incomplete list but I have to start somewhere.  Thank you Mom, for introducing me to flowers (and figs and so many other things).  Thank you, Mom, and may you rest in peace.

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This entry was posted on Wednesday, June 17th, 2009 at 7:21 am and is filed under beauty, death, flowers, God, knowledge&learning, life, love, nature, relationships, seasons, time, wisdom. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Responses are currently closed, but you can trackback from your own site.

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2 Responses to “It All Started In My Mother’s Garden”

  1. Sara Bell Says:
    June 20th, 2009 at 2:21 pm

    Thanks, Siggy, for reminding me of my grandmother’s garden. She tended a garden yearly until she was about 90 years old. Her delight in the soil spread to all of us, and we well remember the way that her face would light up when she cooked some of her prized green beans or used her tomatoes in a fresh summer salad. I think that gardeners love life. We love to watch things grow, to nurture and tend, water, yes, and even talk to our plants. We encourage. We watch. We harvest lovingly. We mourn the end of the season, yet we know that we will start again next year, and WE CAN’T WAIT!!

  2. siggy Says:
    June 29th, 2009 at 6:12 am

    Yes, so much, Sara, started in my Mom’s garden. I can not even relate it all.