Planting Flowers
"Can we conceive what humanity would be if it did not know the flowers?" ~Maurice Maeterlinck
My parents are both green thumbs. Any plant that graced the lawn or inside of my childhood homes has been blessed to be cared for by my mom. Every place that I have lived, my mom and sometimes dad, have helped me plant flowers and tend plants. In college it was the poor ficus tree that struggled to survive. At Fort Rucker we had three plants, one we named after a friend, one we named after our favorite basketball player and the ficus tree. We moved with these three plants to Fort Bragg and gained many more. We planted azaleas and monkey grass. My parents worked so hard in our yard when we moved in that the neighbors asked for the name of our gardening crew. When we moved to Korea, the only surviving indoor plant, the one named after our friend, was relocated to my mom's home and grew so large that it was sold with the house. At Fort Eustis we planted sunflowers that grew to the second floor window. At Fort Leavenworth it was African violets inside. At our house in Germany we planted tulips and enjoyed the field of poppies.
Last fall I planted impatiens in the front of our home here in Florida and prayed that I would do half the job my mom has shown me how to. Because of timing, she wasn't able to help me and I was left fending for myself. With reckless abandon I chose the flowers, spaced them out and planted them, all the time trying to pretend I was my mom. If the flowers knew that they were being planted by me, surely they would never survive. The flowers survived. Every day I pass a bouquet of impatiens in all colors that is the envy of the neighborhood. My neighbors have thanked me often for planting them and have told me that the colors make them so happy when they see them.
Last week one neighbor asked me if I'd consider planting flowers for her. I could name my price, she told me. She had never planted before and was afraid of what the outcome would be if she tried. My price was that she would do the work and I would help. We agreed on a time and that I would pick up the flowers and deliver them for planting. Sunday morning I set out to buy the right flowers. Once again I called on the wisdom of my mom for just the right plants. Sunny spot, not a lot of space, needing color. I purchased pentas, some top soil and two pairs of gardening gloves. For a little over an hour, my neighbor and I planted her flowers. We talked about plants, and the neighborhood, life and faith and family. Her mom will be visiting soon and she imagined her surprise to see the flowers that were planted. The conversation that started with my neighbor assuring me she couldn't plant flowers, finished with the exclamation that she could. What I have learned from my mom's planting all these years, my neighbor now learned from me.
When I walk the dog I pass my seasoned patch of blooming flowers, flourishing like I never thought they would. Now, I also pass the patch that my neighbor and I planted and marvel at how quickly they are growing. She has bought more plants for other places in her yard and plans to plant them in the coming days. Fueled with knowledge and confidence and cheered on by the success of her first endeavor, there is no stopping the community's newest gardener.
When I was a teenager there was a poem that I loved about believing in yourself. One part of it has returned to me whenever I have seen a beautiful garden. "Plant your own garden instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers." My neighbor's excitement at the power of her own two hands has brought this poem to my mind again. My own amazement at being able to teach a skill I didn't think I knew well enough myself has too. With a little faith and the desire to see something happen, we can do amazing things. The proof of this blooms just outside my door.
My parents are both green thumbs. Any plant that graced the lawn or inside of my childhood homes has been blessed to be cared for by my mom. Every place that I have lived, my mom and sometimes dad, have helped me plant flowers and tend plants. In college it was the poor ficus tree that struggled to survive. At Fort Rucker we had three plants, one we named after a friend, one we named after our favorite basketball player and the ficus tree. We moved with these three plants to Fort Bragg and gained many more. We planted azaleas and monkey grass. My parents worked so hard in our yard when we moved in that the neighbors asked for the name of our gardening crew. When we moved to Korea, the only surviving indoor plant, the one named after our friend, was relocated to my mom's home and grew so large that it was sold with the house. At Fort Eustis we planted sunflowers that grew to the second floor window. At Fort Leavenworth it was African violets inside. At our house in Germany we planted tulips and enjoyed the field of poppies.
Last fall I planted impatiens in the front of our home here in Florida and prayed that I would do half the job my mom has shown me how to. Because of timing, she wasn't able to help me and I was left fending for myself. With reckless abandon I chose the flowers, spaced them out and planted them, all the time trying to pretend I was my mom. If the flowers knew that they were being planted by me, surely they would never survive. The flowers survived. Every day I pass a bouquet of impatiens in all colors that is the envy of the neighborhood. My neighbors have thanked me often for planting them and have told me that the colors make them so happy when they see them.
Last week one neighbor asked me if I'd consider planting flowers for her. I could name my price, she told me. She had never planted before and was afraid of what the outcome would be if she tried. My price was that she would do the work and I would help. We agreed on a time and that I would pick up the flowers and deliver them for planting. Sunday morning I set out to buy the right flowers. Once again I called on the wisdom of my mom for just the right plants. Sunny spot, not a lot of space, needing color. I purchased pentas, some top soil and two pairs of gardening gloves. For a little over an hour, my neighbor and I planted her flowers. We talked about plants, and the neighborhood, life and faith and family. Her mom will be visiting soon and she imagined her surprise to see the flowers that were planted. The conversation that started with my neighbor assuring me she couldn't plant flowers, finished with the exclamation that she could. What I have learned from my mom's planting all these years, my neighbor now learned from me.
When I walk the dog I pass my seasoned patch of blooming flowers, flourishing like I never thought they would. Now, I also pass the patch that my neighbor and I planted and marvel at how quickly they are growing. She has bought more plants for other places in her yard and plans to plant them in the coming days. Fueled with knowledge and confidence and cheered on by the success of her first endeavor, there is no stopping the community's newest gardener.
When I was a teenager there was a poem that I loved about believing in yourself. One part of it has returned to me whenever I have seen a beautiful garden. "Plant your own garden instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers." My neighbor's excitement at the power of her own two hands has brought this poem to my mind again. My own amazement at being able to teach a skill I didn't think I knew well enough myself has too. With a little faith and the desire to see something happen, we can do amazing things. The proof of this blooms just outside my door.
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