Monday, May 9, 2011


Some of my words and memories still seem to be lying dormant. Then when conditions are right, they poke up into my consciousness.

Last week my sister came by to prune my rosebushes. Then we walked around the yard. I'm not a great gardener, but when she commented about a particular plant, I was delighted that I could remember the name. That's sweet woodruff, I said. I started it from a few sprigs many years ago.
Almost every day I walk around the garden now, and almost every day I remember more: bleeding hearts, that I almost pulled up that first summer in our house; irises, that my friend brought from Philly, nine years ago; the peony, that never blooms but always looks on the verge of it.

These are my memories, my words, I thought proudly. My garden.


  1. That is so beautiful. You touched my heart.

  2. I used to laugh at my mother when she talked to her flowers. Now I know that flowers are good for the soul.

  3. And for the body. I actually weeded last weekend--no small feat with my clunky brace.

  4. Lots of things in my garden are from friends who have died or moved away. A walk thru the yard brings them all to mind, and it really enhances the delight I take in watching things grow. Glad the memories are coming back in this nurturing context. And isn't weeding satisfying?!?

  5. When I was an OT I had no idea how thrilling every gain is. Now I get goose bumps just thinking about the words "sweet woodruff" rolling off your tongue. And then you pulled weeds? I could use you at my house.

  6. I had a peony like that! When you have the strength, try putting it in a place where it gets more sun... or just enjoy the foliage.