green fingers are the extention of a verdant heart...
I have an intense passion for flowers. When I look back I see where it all began …
The greatest gift of the garden is the restoration of the five senses. – Hanna Rion
My grandmother was an avid gardener who lived by the seasons. Whatever came of her garden she would use in her cooking, baking and preserving. How ironic that my generation is grasping onto these grassroot traditions, when it was a way of life for most of our grandparents.
Early every spring I would be in tow with her as she cultivated her huge backyard garden. I started to understand the garden, become familiar with flowers and plants returning to life every year. Through to harvest time, I was trotting alongside as she listed off flowers and vegetables. It became the basis of my vocabulary and my understanding of cyclical seasons, earth and food.
My fondest memories: My brother and I climbing the huge apple tree, reaching for higher branches to hang from and apples to munch on. Watching my grandmother peal apples with a sharp blade, the skin falling delicately into a single coil. Learning about composting: “eggshells? yes! coffee grounds?? yes!! We put back what we take.” It was as much about returning nutrients back into her garden as it was giving back to the earth. The pigeon coup left empty, but kept for memories of my grandfather. The long path cutting the yard directly down the middle, making every part of her garden accessible. The tall hollyhocks and their blood red and coral blossoms always swaying and sagging. The peonies rich with oozing sap and the ants crawling in and out of their petals.
I could watch her garden for hours.
The greatest gift of the garden is the restoration of the five senses. – Hanna Rion
My grandmother was an avid gardener who lived by the seasons. Whatever came of her garden she would use in her cooking, baking and preserving. How ironic that my generation is grasping onto these grassroot traditions, when it was a way of life for most of our grandparents.
Early every spring I would be in tow with her as she cultivated her huge backyard garden. I started to understand the garden, become familiar with flowers and plants returning to life every year. Through to harvest time, I was trotting alongside as she listed off flowers and vegetables. It became the basis of my vocabulary and my understanding of cyclical seasons, earth and food.
My fondest memories: My brother and I climbing the huge apple tree, reaching for higher branches to hang from and apples to munch on. Watching my grandmother peal apples with a sharp blade, the skin falling delicately into a single coil. Learning about composting: “eggshells? yes! coffee grounds?? yes!! We put back what we take.” It was as much about returning nutrients back into her garden as it was giving back to the earth. The pigeon coup left empty, but kept for memories of my grandfather. The long path cutting the yard directly down the middle, making every part of her garden accessible. The tall hollyhocks and their blood red and coral blossoms always swaying and sagging. The peonies rich with oozing sap and the ants crawling in and out of their petals.
I could watch her garden for hours.
Thank you for bringing back some amazingly wonderful memories :)
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