I have a great friend who knows more than a little bit about gardening and landscape design. Right after the first of the year, right after we had had very hot soup for lunch, I persuaded him to follow me to my house and give me advice on a very pressing issue. Well, it was pressing on me. Grand plans for the warmer parts of the year with no better time to contemplate them than the coldest and dreariest days of winter.
As we walked around my very small property, he asked many questions. Sprinkler head questions. “What grows here?” questions. “Who laid this?” questions. “When does this bloom?” questions. He wondered when we had done certain things. He never questioned our choices or our taste. When he spoke to me about my dogwood tree in the front yard, I answered, “A Mother’s Day gift from my son.” My favorite moment was when he asked about yet another winter-weary plant in one of our beds towards the back of our yard and I regaled him yet again with not only what the plant was but which grandparent had given it to me. And when. And why. I was brief, I hope.
He gave me The Look. You know The Look. It can take many forms, yet this one was saying to me silently, “Does everything have a story?” He knew the answer and was playing dumb just so I would respond to The Look. So I played along….
I thought of this again this morning when yet another person congratulated me on the graduation of our son from high school. The conversation rolled along, and before I knew it the question was “popped” again. This is the question that seems to escape people right after they ask where he will be attending college: “Are you going to sell the house?” It has become “The Second Question”.
It has puzzled, the fact that this has been such a frequently asked question this spring. Is it because we have only one child and his absence from our home will have us putting a sign in the yard from loneliness? Is it because we live in an older, historic, and larger home and therefore must be looking for the newer and the smaller?
My friend who gave me The Look on the coldest day this past winter already knows my answer. I’m not leaving the home I brought that bouncing baby boy to from the hospital. The memories live inside the house and outside as well. With the daylilies, a gift from my mom’s mom; the dogwood tree, a gift from my son; the surprise lilies, a gift from my mom’s dad; the bridal wreath bush, a gift from my dad’s parents. The list goes on and on.
And that’s before I regale anyone with what the days were like when each planting was made. They all live with me on the coldest and the warmest days.
Vividly.
p.s. The photo was taken this morning in my back yard. These daylilies were originally grown in the ditch near the entrance to my maternal great grandmother’s farm in Gasconade County, Missouri. They are majestic and stand almost five feet tall when they are blooming.
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