Shortly after we bought this house, we received a 3 page letter from one of the previous owners, detailing the contents of the terraced back garden. This was her prize. Her baby. Nearly as precious as her real baby, now age 25 or so. One of the prized plants is a flowering dogwood, and takes center stage this time of year in the garden.
I can't remember now the significance for her - was it the present from her father on her 50th birthday? The prize for her first published book of poetry? Unknown. For me it breathes of when we were firmly settled here, Erin at 2.5, Robin at 2 months, and we were finally starting to find our groove as a family of four.
To me, it stands as a beautiful reminder of how our lives blossom, grow, and wilt, each thing having a season. We no longer have babies, we have kids. The previous owners no longer have little kids, nor a life together. But we have all grown into something different, something unexpected, something just as beautiful, but maybe not as imagined. Little things we plant here and there can grow into unexpected beauty that will be, by us or unanticipated others, appreciated and adored.
1 comment:
bittersweet as I imagine your lovely yard so far away from here! I'll never be totally over your move, but am so glad for you to hear of the roots you've put down (or re-established, as it were).
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