Sunday, July 17, 2005

It's another beautiful day here in Bellemaison. The roses are on a well-deserved hiatus, having put on a fireworks show of their own this year. So we've deadheaded them, given them a long, solid drink of fish oil, tucked in lots of epsom salts around their drip line and cut 'em back to let 'em rest.

The perennials have stepped up and offer their fresh faces to the birds, bees, dragonflies, chipmunks,hummingbirds and of course, The Chow Nation. I have some sort of a religious relationship with my perennials. Most of them have been with me in every house that I have lived. I have the blue forget-me-nots that my best friend brought to me after the birth of my first child. I have the yellow day lillies she brought me in the next house, after the birth of my second child. She died then, so as her memory fades, I forget-her-not in her gifts of the outdoors and the rich soil.

I have the Bee Balm and the Bishops' Cross that my mother gave me that her friend Jean gave her. I also have my mother's lemon mint that I have allowed to reseed everywhere. Someday I fully expect to see it coming up through the grout in my shower. I have the Blizzards of Daisies (Shasta) that my friend Tisa had in her old house, The Barn. I have the orange day lillies that my old cleaning lady, now immobile with rhematoid arthritis gave me from her garden. I have the Japanese Iris that Lorene Harrison gave me--a reminder of earlier days, innocent times. As Bob Seger said, "Wish I didn't know now what I didn't know then." I have one Chinese Peony from my neighbor Marty's garden. He has died now and his garden has gone back to its vacant lot wild state.

All these people who have meant so much to me as I made my own way into adulthood are still with me. These hot summer days are extra vivid in their solitude and quiet; as the birds break the stillness with their songs, I can hear the old memories clearly, as I savor and wonder at the continued legacy of their flowers. They are admonishing me about this, warning me about the perils of that. I wonder if theses people were here, if I would measure up yet. I hope I have become someone of whom they all could be proud, for they all were mighty. I hope my life's work would be worthy of them for they each left this world in such a better place.

As I give it all once last look before heading in to make lunch, I think

I am rich, rich, rich.

The 'Kan EWA

1 comment:

Julie said...

Jahn, your garden is beautiful. Are those maltese cross in the foreground? Oh, and I wouldn't worry about measuring up if I were you.