Pansies were her favorite flower, and I began this year’s planting season with a robust assortment of pansies which have endured the summer’s most scorching temperatures with remarkable longevity. Only the one hanging in the seat of the child’s swing in the tree out in the yard has finally called it quits for the year. The rest continue to cling to their former glory, some almost daring the inevitable first freeze to try to nip their resilience. Each spring I plant them with some sense of commitment to what she would have done, but over the years, there has been a sense of pride, even accomplishment at what I have managed to sustain in her place. Once it was her garden; now it is mine. And I find myself even talking to them and claiming something akin to the parental pride one has with his own children. In a broader metaphor, the pansies do require TLC and pampering and nurturing, and it is an undeniable sense of fulfillment to see them flourish. I water them faithfully each morning along with the rest of the flowers in my garden. The courtyard is gone now, but the watering continues and the plants continue to respond to the water and to the sunlight in their new home and will until they have no choice but to resign themselves to the seasonal dominion of unbearably colder temperatures. Today has been an oddly emotional day. Not sure why, but memories have played tag with my mind off and on all day. At one point, I grabbed a pinwheel and headed out to Greenwood to visit her grave. No sooner had I stuck it into the soil before the silver and purple blades began to spin furiously, almost like she had been waiting for me to show up. Just as there is beauty to be shared in each new day, there is also a momentary tug at the heart with each new day, and today was no different. I am able to find joy in each new day I am given, but I must admit I am not quite altogether comfortable in my new home yet. Right now it is a house, but not a home. But the flowers give me comfort and keep me connected to the things and the people that mean the most to me. I continue to cherish the splendor that grows unabated in my own garden of memories that will far outlast the fury of any menacing winter bluster that may lie ahead.
Posted on: Wed, 25 Sep 2013 02:05:42 +0000
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