The Edge Of Country

Author: siggy

I have always lived at the edge of country.  Of course, some people are more divorced from it if they are surrounded by concrete but it is always there you just have to look a little harder.

Growing up I watched my mother plant vegetables and flowers and other things.  We had a mulberry and fig and apricot tree and some of the biggest blackberries I have ever seen.

It was a small plot of land but she tilled it well.  We had fresh string beans and tomatoes.  She loved roses.  The garden was a place she could disappear in.  And she often did for hours.

We lived in a bustling little city but that garden we had was an introduction to many things.  I learned to love deep red stemmed roses.

On weekends my father brought us into the country, mountains and shore but most of my life I lived in the edge of country.  I learned to appreciate what came my way.

Today I still love birds.  I have several bird feeders that I can view from our large living room windows and watch a steady parade of chickadees and titmouse and woodpeckers just to name a few.

It all started in Mom’s garden and the weekend trips we took as a family.  I learned to love the mountains and trees and lakes and and so many other things.

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.