I’m easing back into my garden diary blog–Spring has a way of doing that to us, doesn’t it? With all the symbolism of a winter freeze, my life has followed the seasons. As the leaves we’re dying this year, so did my child’s grandmother; my mom. We tried to teach the new four year old what dying means, her first experience with death. I took her out to the garden where I had zinnias in every state of life and death. This gorgeous flower had come two years earlier via a friend who wanted to share. She had sowed the seeds herself, and gave some of the flowers to me to put in the ground. Zinnias have a wonderful way of growing and shedding seeds so that next spring new ones will pop up in new areas along with some in the same place. I was able to take my kid to one of her favorite bright pink flowers and show her a bloom, a newly opened flower, a flower in its prime, one that was losing some of its leaves, another with some pedals missing, and so on until we came upon one that was completely spent. I explained that people are like flowers although our lives develop much more slowly. Her Mimi’s flower was spent; her body no longer worked. We could shake that old brown flower head, and we did. Tiny seeds were released; we have new zinnias this year.
The purpose of me writing a gardening blog is to be able to pass on a history of my kid’s childhood framed through growing and nurturing our home. I can add pictures, and I can show her what vegetables she ate growing up. She can witness through the pictures the evolution of our yard as seen with tricycles one year to a two-wheel bike the next. It goes so fast. In this picture we have a pink Easter egg hidden among the flowers–a whole story of its own. My child can show her children that each year after Easter, we had dozens of daily Easter eggs hunts that lasted well into the next month. Even the “hiding” places gets me–the innocence of hiding the eggs in plain sight reminds me of how perfect a four year old is.
The other reason I started my garden journal was so my mother had a private glimpse into my life. She and I had to talk about other things such as gardening or writing to really talk about “things.” We found a language we could both speak, a common ground.
A zinnia popped up next to the carrots. She loved the carrot post when I wrote it.