4/10/2008
Today was one of the happiest days I've had in a long time.
My mom always had the best garden in the world when I was growing up. She was constantly outside digging around in the dirt. I have a picture of her when she was just a little girl, holding a watering can, smiling away like a born gardener.
When she visited me in NYC, we walked through the Liz Christy community garden on Houston Street. It's easy to miss when you're rushing around consumed by your own life and worries. But it's there, hiding behind an iron fence - a little patch of tangled paths and wildflowers, bashful violets, and proud perennials. Once you find it, you feel as if it's blooming just for you. My mom loved that 'secret garden’ and would often ask me about it.
Today was one of the happiest days I've had in a long time.
My mom always had the best garden in the world when I was growing up. She was constantly outside digging around in the dirt. I have a picture of her when she was just a little girl, holding a watering can, smiling away like a born gardener.
When she visited me in NYC, we walked through the Liz Christy community garden on Houston Street. It's easy to miss when you're rushing around consumed by your own life and worries. But it's there, hiding behind an iron fence - a little patch of tangled paths and wildflowers, bashful violets, and proud perennials. Once you find it, you feel as if it's blooming just for you. My mom loved that 'secret garden’ and would often ask me about it.
I love it too.
Today I planted old-fashioned pink roses in that garden, in memory of my mom. Or, I should say, I watched as a real gardener named Penny planted them for me. Sadly, I did not inherit the gardening gene.
The sky was blue and it was warm. The first really perfect day of spring. Our roses now snuggle up beside that iron fence, and will eventually climb it to reach for the sun. Keeping them company is a gorgeously fragrant magnolia tree, in full bloom today.
I dropped in a little note to my mom before the last handful of dirt filled the hole. I promised to visit her often in the secret garden.
Then my new gardener friend, Penny, made an innocent suggestion that meant more to me than she'll ever know. "Here, why don't you hold the watering can, and I'll take your picture?"
I've never been happier to be my mother's daughter.
Today I planted old-fashioned pink roses in that garden, in memory of my mom. Or, I should say, I watched as a real gardener named Penny planted them for me. Sadly, I did not inherit the gardening gene.
The sky was blue and it was warm. The first really perfect day of spring. Our roses now snuggle up beside that iron fence, and will eventually climb it to reach for the sun. Keeping them company is a gorgeously fragrant magnolia tree, in full bloom today.
I dropped in a little note to my mom before the last handful of dirt filled the hole. I promised to visit her often in the secret garden.
Then my new gardener friend, Penny, made an innocent suggestion that meant more to me than she'll ever know. "Here, why don't you hold the watering can, and I'll take your picture?"
I've never been happier to be my mother's daughter.
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