Plants made an impression on me from the start. I recall bright purple pansies with yellow faces where we lived when I was just three years old. But one of my fondest, earliest garden memories involves my mother and a little gardening project.
We had moved to a large, old house with a a big piece of property. Young and full of energy, our family established a vegetable garden — it seemed massive to me!
My mother, prompted either by my prodding (I’m tenacious), or perhaps hoping to have a project to do together (there was always something creative going on), decided to set aside a few rows for me, where we planted a variety of flower seeds together: bachelor’s buttons, marigolds, painted daisies.
I waited what seemed like forever, but flowers were nowhere to be seen. Then one day, they appeared… but where were those painted daisies? Nevertheless, I was enchanted. The seeds of garden love were planted.
Only years later did I learn that my little garden had received a little bit of “divine intervention” behind the scenes. That year, there was storm that caused a massive flood. There was no chance the seeds we had planted would germinate. My mother sought out each variety at a local greenhouse and planted them one evening, as to not destroy the enchantment of that first experience. This truly reflects her personality — kind, loving and always looking to build others up.
Some may say it would have toughened me up to start again — an early life lesson. But for a five-year-old, sometimes you need a little magic. I’m convinced it fostered my love of gardening today. Thanks, mom.