Flowers

I love flowers; all kinds. I wish I was a better gardener. I like a manicured landscape. Ours is still a work in progress.

I live in what used to be my grandmother's house. She died in 2001 at age 91. Most of the flowers and other landscaping I have were planted by her. Come spring, the blooming begins. By mid February, the daffodils start coming up. I've counted at least 6 different varieties. By the first of May, the irises begin blooming and continue until after Mother's Day.

The dogwood trees bloom around Easter and the kids are always photographed in front of the white one in the front yard, chronicling their growth through the years.

We've had to lose a couple of bushes; an azalea and a giant, oak leaf hydrangea. That was sad, but I still have one of the hydrangeas in the front yard. It is huge and beautiful and continues to thrive even with amateur gardeners whacking on it.

Then there are the forsythia bushes and the ivy (which I am currently trying to transplant), and other shrubs that I don't know the names of.

By summer, day lilies and tiger lilies (I guess that's what they are) are blooming. Orange is not my favorite color, but I've come to enjoy them, mostly because she planted them. The day lilies were all but gone when I discovered them and moved them. (Ronnie had mowed them down with the weedeater for about five years.)

I have dug up bulbs and moved them all around the yard. It is very gratifying to see the flowers still thriving after all these years. It seems that moving them gives them a boost or something. They seem to like new surroundings. Of course, it is economical to use the same bulbs instead of buying new ones, but there is also an element of keeping her memory alive by keeping her flowers. It is impossible to look out the kitchen window at the blooms without thinking of her.

It seems a bit metaphorical to me. Ma Carroll lived through times that people had to be tough just to survive. The Great Depression, 9 kids, losing her husband too soon; to name just a few. We've also had our character building time. The hardest few years of my life ended with my 2 boys being diagnosed with autism, my own diagnosis of fibromyalgia, and my husband losing his job at his first pastorate. It was hard and it was bad; really, really bad. When I look back on it, I'm still amazed that we survived. Two words - grace and mercy.

It was during that very difficult time that we moved into Ma's house. It was small, but it was a safe haven. We've since added on a master suite, painted, pulled up old carpet to reveal hardwood floors, etc. I'm happy with my house, my yard, and my flowers. It feels like home.

Me, Ma, the flowers; we're from tough stock. We persevere.

I think Ma would be happy that I'm here. And while I know she would want me to be at home and do whatever I wanted, I think she would be pleased to see me enjoying and preserving her flowers.