I see this gardener has posted again. I am so glad. She is one of the loveliest writers, and a true gardener. She speaks of the special power of gardening in the circle of life and death:
“My father often told me about his grandmother’s garden. Though not a gardener himself, he seemed to take particular pleasure in knowing that I was following her path. Whenever we spoke he would never fail to ask how my garden grew. I sat beside his bed only a few weeks ago and we spoke of Gram’s beautiful chamomile, his part in the harvest, and the fragrant tea she would brew from the flowers. His shared memory reaches across time, across death, and gives me comfort. In some way, then, I honor his memory with my garden.”
And leaves that sweet taste of the souls able expression of something most of us can’t quite frame in words, although we feel it.
My sympathies with the loss of her father… my thanks for the giving of her creativity in her internet eclectic garden.
