have memories from my childhood.
A garden at one house, filled with cucumber and tomato plants.
The yard at another, with hosta and pussy willows. Just snippets
of the whole, but enough to get our journey started.
after these memories were made, Terry and I bought our first home.
In the backyard were a few hosta plants, which Lady and Travis
absolutely loved. They decided the hosta made perfect outdoor
beds. So, with my childhood memories of the plants in place, and
smiles over why we needed to move them, Terry and I relocated
several of the plants to the front yard. We wanted to have them,
and so we did.
and I would move from that home. And, given a bit of overlap in
time, we decided to take some plants with us from one home to
the next. A great deal of hosta was part of that move, and it
flourished in its new location. Subsequently, as our boys purchased
homes of their own, we took a few of the hosta plants along on
a visit and placed them in their gardens.
there’s a connection to my childhood memories involved in some
of my preferences for landscaping. And, our boys have plants in
their yards that are literally connected to our dogs as well as
kind of neat.
not telling you that story to talk about hosta though. Also, Terry’s
preferences and memories are involved in our actions and decisions
as well. (For now though, my essay, my words, my memories. She’s
along for the ride as a passenger here.) Instead, I just want
you to think about some of the ways many very subtle and small
items can have incredible significance for a person.
have doubts that anyone pulling up to our house, or either of
the houses for the kids, will even notice the hosta plants. But
there they are, on full display, in garden areas along the front
of all of the homes.
living in that first house of ours, a neighbor stopped by one
day. She was thinning the irises around her property and wondered
if we’d like a few. We happily took them. Later, like the hosta,
many of the irises were brought along with us from one home to
familiar with irises will nod in agreement about how quickly they
grow, spread, and can crowd a location. They are, in many ways,
too easy to raise. We thinned a few out, and several of those
have moved on to the kids as well. (In fact, a few made their
way to the homes of our parents. They all look wonderful and have
now, along our driveway, the irises are blooming. I cannot look
at them without recalling that friendly, wonderful neighbor of
ours. In turn, it often triggers some tremendous thoughts of the
time Terry and I have been together. And those smiles aren’t isolated
to our yard. They can be triggered when visiting the kids. They
can be triggered when visiting the parents.
things. Special to us. Overlooked by others, but surprisingly
other day, Terry and I were driving some back roads. The yards
up here have been exploding with dandelions. It seems like they’ve
become more and more prevalent in the past few years, but this
spring has been a step beyond prevalent. It’s been a virtual wave
of yellow splashing across lawn after lawn. Terry made a joke
about it being a dandelion heaven, and my mind took off into tangents
and twists and created the dandy lion thought.
thing is, that heaven idea may not be too far out of place. All
of us have mixtures of moments and memories, combined with special
things that we’d like to pass on and perhaps have others consider
special as well.
do not have any hosta or pussy willows from my grandmother’s house.
And, like many of you, I would imagine part of that is because
the connections and thoughts about moving some of them developed
far too late. I began wishing for them really once they were unavailable.
don’t know how many times some of these plants could possibly
be replanted again. To another home if anyone moves? Perhaps.
To a grandchild’s house? Doubtful. Still, I am certain that in
years to come there will be items and moments for our family that
seem ordinary to a casual onlooker but will hold great meanings
a small bit of heaven. Indeed, a dandy lion heaven.