Of Greenery and Gardens

60: (January 2022)

I share our home with 52 houseplants. Many of them have been with me for decades, seeing me through moves from one state to another, and more importantly, one stage of life to another. Who can ask for greater loyalty? I return their devotion wholeheartedly, tending to them with great care and enjoyment.

This collection of greenery that has amassed in our home is not comprised of unique specimens or plants with fancy attributes. Nevertheless, they are beloved because they are life itself. They’re never stagnant; they’re either growing or in the process of dying, all the while demonstrating the sheer joy of being alive. What great role models to have around! As if that weren’t enough, since each plant has shared my life in some way, they carry memories upon their foliage.

The avocado tree began as a sprouted pit wrapped in a damp paper towel that my mother sent to me through the mail in a ziplock bag; it’s about 25 years old now, having witnessed my daughters grow from little girls into adults who have ventured out on their own. The rubber plant started out as a single leaf that a coworker broke off from a very large plant and then potted for me at a former place of employment; her big smile and friendliness have often come to mind as I’ve watched that single leaf grow into a good-sized plant over the years.

The ficus tree that keeps me company when I play the piano is my foster child; I tend it for my dear friend who winters in Florida now. I may not see her during the cold-weather months, but her presence is held by the ficus. Likewise with five or six succulents that my younger daughter asked me to ‘babysit’ when she moved to Germany almost five years ago; I feel closer to her when I’m around that array of whimsically shaped leaves. Most of the plants that fill our home have happy histories associated with family and friends: the Meyer lemon tree from my sweet mother-in-law, the begonia cutting from a drummer I used to play music with that stretches across the room now, the spider plant given out at a friend’s New Year’s Eve party 15 years ago that has spawned countless babies, and on and on.

As the houseplants do their daily work of faithfully taking in carbon dioxide and releasing oxygen, they staunchly bear witness to life. Day in and day out, the years pile upon each other as they spin their magic with a pot of dirt, a weekly watering, and a little sunshine. They are among my greatest treasures.

40: (January 2002)

I often long for my garden during the snowy winter months. I like to garden by starting with seeds, rather than buying plants. I love to witness the miracle of life that springs from something so tiny, something that is sometimes no larger than a speck. Seeds contain all that is necessary for a life to bloom; they contain the essence of the plant. Although their appearance often belies their significance, the power contained within them is immense.

So it might be with a winter garden. Gardens may be sown with a smile to a neighbor, a stranger, a friend. Small gestures, seemingly insignificant, may be winter garden seeds. Lending a hand, cooking a hearty meal, sitting with someone in pain. Little gestures. Little everyday encounters, yet powerful, so powerful. What might be possible from these seeds? How might they grow? What are the blooms?

I have been incredibly touched in my life by gestures, tokens of caring, especially during difficult times. It is the cup of tea with a friend that can sometimes feel lifesaving. It is moments shared. It is a hug when needed, encouraging words, a phone call. It is sharing life. It is not so much doing, as just being. It is living one’s daily life infused with a spirit of love. Never underestimate what a small gesture can mean to someone.

A winter garden is friendship. It is looking into people’s eyes more deeply, sharing true feelings. A winter garden is storing energy for the year ahead, supplying the world with what it needs to live and to thrive. Winter blooms get light not from the sun, but from an internal source within each of us that nurtures all life. These blossoms are watered with our tears and our laughter.

I am so grateful for the friends in my life. It is a most splendid, beautiful garden.

60-40:

It is quite amazing to look back 20 years since I wrote the entry above and to reflect on the fact that my friends have been traveling through life with me for decades. I am so fortunate. 

I’ve discovered that what is held deeply in the heart becomes rooted, allowing gardens to bloom within that escape the constraints of time. Love that blossoms within knows no bounds, nurturing friendships over the course of a lifetime and beyond.

I recently found out a friend of mine passed away last year. But when a friend dies, the love doesn’t. What remains is an eternal garden. I will tend to it well.