Certain times of the year seem to prompt certain memories, flooding my mind with beautiful images of the past. Early spring is such a time for me. The garden is just beginning to wake up and those precious early blooms grace quiet spaces. This is a sacred time for me, a time when my grandmother’s garden comes alive in my mind. She and I had so many special traditions. And she passed many of her hobbies down to me. Her love of gardening and nature was such a hobby. In my grandmother’s garden, I learned to love things that grow. I learned that beauty takes time to develop and God’s timing was always right. My grandmother, my Nonny, was an extraordinary lady. She loved unconditionally and without expectation. She loved simply. Through her actions, I knew I was safe, loved, and treasured.
Nonny’s garden was one of her favorite places. It was alive with all kinds of flowers, bulbs, bushes, and trees. There were stone statues, garden signs, and bird feeders throughout. My favorite space was the daffodil patch under the big tree by the garden shed. There were daffodils throughout her garden in the springtime, but under the tree, they were allowed to grow wild. They naturalized into this bright, beautiful tapestry every spring, flooding the whole yard with happiness.
There were rules to picking Nonny’s daffodils of course. Rules I gladly obeyed as I chose my treasures to present to her. She always treated each bouquet as the most precious gift. It delighted my heart to see her face light up when I presented my selection to her. And she always placed them in a beautiful, hand-blown yellow glass pitcher. Daffodils deserved special recognition in Nonny’s kitchen.
Those rules were simple but not negotiable. Tread lightly, to protect the plants themselves. Never take all the blooms, save some for the bees. Only pick what will fit in the pitcher, and pick gently, taking the whole stalk. At the time, they were just rules, Nonny-isms that we followed just because. But it’s the lessons behind those rules that I cherish most. Lessons I gladly pass on to her great-grandchildren. Treasure nature, enjoy things of beauty, take care of the bees, and be generous without waste.
As I sit in my dining room on this rainy spring day, I can see those precious daffodils peeking over my computer screen from their blown-glass vase. That simple little vase is my greatest treasure. It was the only thing I asked for when my Nonny passed away. It’s just a simple vase. Flawed and imperfect…kind of like me. But loved beyond measure for the memories it holds.
Dreams & Flannel 