"By the time one is eighty, it is said, there is no longer a tug of war in the garden with the May flowers hauling like mad against the claims of the other months. All is at last in balance and all is serene. The gardener is usually dead, of course." ~Henry Mitchell, The Essential Earthman, 1981
I’ve always been a little to interest in flowers. When I was a little girl my grandma would let me help her water the roses.Of corse I always over watered them. She had at least 30 rose bushes.
Then after a long day of gardening on the ranch she would let me sleep in the princess bed. Each morning she would bring me a freshly cut rose in a tiny rose bud vase and put it by the bed while I slept. There is nothing better than waking up to the smell of roses.
I love my grandma … I guess gardening is a peace of her… and I want it to be a peace of me. Her name is Arlene. I have been begging Michael for years to let us name our first girl after her… but her name Arlene is not the most modern… or cute. But when I here her name I think of an absolute saint and the smell of roses in the morning. And I hope my daughter is just like her some day.
1 comments:
I know what you mean about your grandma...I have similar memories of all my grandparents...it's sad that some kids these days don't get the kind of grandparents that our generation and our parents' generation did. So many of the elderly these days work, or lead active social lives and aren't the same kind of old school grandparents. I was lucky enough to know both sets of my grandparents, plus both sets of my great grandparents.
Post a Comment