We’ve had a few gloomy, slightly rainy days. It seems like we should have received more rain, everything is green and growing and just bursting.
There was just enough of a break between storms that I finished rototilling my garden. I may have to do it one more time, but with the evening lows in the 40’s, I’m still not overly anxious to plant much of my garden.
It’s strange, how, often, in moments like these… feeling the soil, planning this year’s layout of vegetables, turning the dirt… all of a sudden I’m hit with a pang of loneliness for my mom. There’s so many memories of her in her gardens wherever we lived… the flowers, the multitude of produce… The scent of dirt, the aroma of newly purchased tomato plants… it just all comes together and I miss her.
I kick off my dirt packed tennis shoes and go inside… quickly finding Alan Jackson’s CD of gospel songs. Insert. Push play. The soothing gospel music I grew up on surrounds me and before long, “In The Garden” is playing. The tears flow. I begin making a rhubarb cobbler from my first garden harvest of the year. I repeat the song and keep cooking. All of a sudden, the corn starch is everywhere. Fine white powder in a small snowstorm around me. It takes me a second, but I laugh.
She did it. Made me smile instead of cry. Made me laugh as I wiped the tears away. She also made sure I cleaned up my mess! So many years have passed, and while I may not think of her everyday as I used to, she still comes back to visit… in the scent of new garden growth, in the potential of the soil, in the honest work.
I may play “In the Garden” a few more times, but there will be more smiles than tears. Thanks for the visit, the memories, the shared knowledge, and most of all, the laughter. Miss you, Mom.Find me here!