Three Generations of Gardening

What is it that was so special about that day—we were three generations gardening. Sowing seeds, getting dirty, eating, drinking and laughing. We were mother, daughter, and granddaughter. Not just 3 generations, but three generations of women, and like life itself, we were represented in all our aspects: willowy young tree, just starting to form, with roots easing into the warm soil, head facing to the sun. The mature tree, trunk thick and strong, branches out to protect and shelter. And finally, the older tree, trunk gnarled, but wise, whispering secrets of the winds.

And so it began—it was an act of love—three generations coming together to help an ailing one. She had lived on the dark side for too long. Looking like a deer caught in the headlights, rarely leaving the cocoon of her bed and finding little joy in any of life's pleasures.

But this day was an act of nurturing and creating; of touching the dirt and holding its warm and life-affirming richness to our faces, of getting wet and silly, and ultimately creating a lovely oasis for the spirit as well as for the birds and butterflies.

I don't know if it was the gathering of the women, or the working of the earth, or the magic that occurred when we all came together to do the work. However, it became for her, the beginning of a shift back to the light. Now every time she walks out, she is greeted by the bold colors of the pottery we painted, by the brilliant blooms of the flowers we planted, and by the creatures who have been invited to visit and doze peacefully in the sun.

It is now a year later, and she is a converted gardener. She asks me questions about pruning roses, about pesky powdery mildew and about putting out Praying Mantis. And as I wander thru her new oasis, I am grateful, forever grateful for the healing powers of three generations gardening.

Poetic Plantings
Landscape Design