I have long believed that the forest holds my stories, but you've opened my eyes to see that our gardens hold our stories too. My first experience with growing things was because of my grandma Julia, who grew vegetables, berries, and flowers that she used to attract or deflect certain insects. She also prayed in her garden. Among the green leaves were small statues of St Joseph or some other saint, the Virgin Mary, and other talisman that represented her faith. What I love most when I look back on those years was that her prayers were rooted in the earth, replete with dirt under her fingernails. Something about that moves me. In my garden today, I have small tea pots, a few crystals, and grief stones that I painted when my siblings died. The garden holds them all and all the stories behind them. Thank you for such a lovely essay on another place that is the holder of story.
It's so interesting that your first memories about growing things include your grandma too. Just as it is with me. I completely get why her connections with growing things, the dirt, and her faith move you. I'm wondering now why you feel the forest holds your stories...
I love that you painted grief stones and have them in your garden to remember your siblings. That is so touching and I'm sure meaningful for you. I'm sorry they've died. I also love how you phrased it that a garden is another place that is the holder of story. When you think about it, I suppose every place is a holder of stories - perhaps not always our own stories - but someone's.
Thank you for reading, taking time to share a garden story, and for subscribing too. I appreciate you being here.
Nancy, I love your posts, and I restacked this with a note about our apricot tree and how I grew it from seed from a tree in a green belt. I have so many stories about my garden, feeding the neighborhood with my cucumbers and grapes, neighbors kids bringing me worms, the flowers we have, and how it’s evolved over the years we’ve lived here. My favorite flower is the wild iris. They are so delicate and their colors are my favorite. I named one of my dogs Iris. I have tried to grow daisies here but for some reason they don’t do well. I do love them, though.
Thank you for sharing your marvelous garden stories. I remember you had a dog named Iris. What a lovely name for your sweet pup. I'm not sure if wild irises look pretty much the same or different. And yes, who doesn't love daises? I think it depends on what type you have. Mine originated from ND, so it must be the soil you have as the ND climate must surely be more harsh than yours! My soil is sandy, and not that good. Yet, they thrive, popping up all over. Thank you for sharing. I enjoyed your stories.
Thanks, Nancy! We have certain flowers that love our soil, though ours is low in magnesium and the deciduous trees tend to turn a pale green color instead of darker green. It always looks like fall is coming as early as July.
Nancy, what a marvelous, beautifully written post! I love daisies and You've Got Mail too. I'm originally from a very urban, unsafe area in the Bronx, NY, so I used to imagine what it would be like to have greenery in places other than public parks. When I was 13, my family moved to a house in a safe area of the Bronx -- it seemed like another country. Greenery everywhere, people riding horses along the main parkway (yes, horses in the Bronx!), and our house had a garden that my mom started -- both vegetable and flower. I had no idea my mom had a green thumb. I did watering and such, but I wasn't that interested in gardening, though I loved all the greenery in the area and feeling safer. My mom really became good at it; she took after her dad, who lived in the lower East Side of Manhattan and could only have house plants. He loved greenery and nature -- he even had homing pigeons on the roof! Anyway, I digress. One funny story: my mom ordered worms to be put in the soil (apparently there was a lack of aeration) so when the postal worker delivered the box o' worms, he said, "Happy appetite" to my mom. :)
Thank you for the kind words about my article. I love the stories you shared! And that one about the worms is quite the tale! Thank you for reading and commenting too. I appreciate you.
I have long believed that the forest holds my stories, but you've opened my eyes to see that our gardens hold our stories too. My first experience with growing things was because of my grandma Julia, who grew vegetables, berries, and flowers that she used to attract or deflect certain insects. She also prayed in her garden. Among the green leaves were small statues of St Joseph or some other saint, the Virgin Mary, and other talisman that represented her faith. What I love most when I look back on those years was that her prayers were rooted in the earth, replete with dirt under her fingernails. Something about that moves me. In my garden today, I have small tea pots, a few crystals, and grief stones that I painted when my siblings died. The garden holds them all and all the stories behind them. Thank you for such a lovely essay on another place that is the holder of story.
Hi Stephanie,
It's so interesting that your first memories about growing things include your grandma too. Just as it is with me. I completely get why her connections with growing things, the dirt, and her faith move you. I'm wondering now why you feel the forest holds your stories...
I love that you painted grief stones and have them in your garden to remember your siblings. That is so touching and I'm sure meaningful for you. I'm sorry they've died. I also love how you phrased it that a garden is another place that is the holder of story. When you think about it, I suppose every place is a holder of stories - perhaps not always our own stories - but someone's.
Thank you for reading, taking time to share a garden story, and for subscribing too. I appreciate you being here.
Nancy, I love your posts, and I restacked this with a note about our apricot tree and how I grew it from seed from a tree in a green belt. I have so many stories about my garden, feeding the neighborhood with my cucumbers and grapes, neighbors kids bringing me worms, the flowers we have, and how it’s evolved over the years we’ve lived here. My favorite flower is the wild iris. They are so delicate and their colors are my favorite. I named one of my dogs Iris. I have tried to grow daisies here but for some reason they don’t do well. I do love them, though.
.
Hi again, Alene,
Forgot to say, thank you for the restack! Appreciate you.
You’re welcome! 💖
Hi Alene,
Thank you for sharing your marvelous garden stories. I remember you had a dog named Iris. What a lovely name for your sweet pup. I'm not sure if wild irises look pretty much the same or different. And yes, who doesn't love daises? I think it depends on what type you have. Mine originated from ND, so it must be the soil you have as the ND climate must surely be more harsh than yours! My soil is sandy, and not that good. Yet, they thrive, popping up all over. Thank you for sharing. I enjoyed your stories.
Thanks, Nancy! We have certain flowers that love our soil, though ours is low in magnesium and the deciduous trees tend to turn a pale green color instead of darker green. It always looks like fall is coming as early as July.
Nancy, what a marvelous, beautifully written post! I love daisies and You've Got Mail too. I'm originally from a very urban, unsafe area in the Bronx, NY, so I used to imagine what it would be like to have greenery in places other than public parks. When I was 13, my family moved to a house in a safe area of the Bronx -- it seemed like another country. Greenery everywhere, people riding horses along the main parkway (yes, horses in the Bronx!), and our house had a garden that my mom started -- both vegetable and flower. I had no idea my mom had a green thumb. I did watering and such, but I wasn't that interested in gardening, though I loved all the greenery in the area and feeling safer. My mom really became good at it; she took after her dad, who lived in the lower East Side of Manhattan and could only have house plants. He loved greenery and nature -- he even had homing pigeons on the roof! Anyway, I digress. One funny story: my mom ordered worms to be put in the soil (apparently there was a lack of aeration) so when the postal worker delivered the box o' worms, he said, "Happy appetite" to my mom. :)
Hi Beth,
Thank you for the kind words about my article. I love the stories you shared! And that one about the worms is quite the tale! Thank you for reading and commenting too. I appreciate you.