Dirt Under My Nails:
A Tribute to Mom by Joyce Vanderpool
I love flowers! All kinds, all colors, all seasons!
It all started with a mother who adored flowers. She didn’t just like to see them or plant them or smell them or pick them. She adored everything about them.
Mom loved digging in the soil, usually starting out with gloves but quickly discarding them to just feel the rich warm earth between her fingers. Then she’d plant flowers – all kinds of flowers from all kinds of sources. Sometimes they were seeds she saved from the previous year or purchased new in the spring. Other times they were “starts” from neighbors’ and friends’ yards. Other times she just found them – like the irises that had been discarded along the road or the jack-in-the-pulpits she discovered in the nearby woods. In her mind, they were all special, no matter where they had come from.
When the weather was warm enough, there were flowers planted in the yard. When it was cold, she gathered up flowers from older arrangements at church or the funeral home and made new fresh and lovely works of art. Often the flowers in the front of the church on Sunday morning were “recycled” from a recent funeral, but nobody knew the secret about where they might have come from – except Mom and me, of course. After all, Mom thought that the flowers were still a living tribute to the deceased, and were to be enjoyed as long as possible.
The rental house we lived in was small and the yard was tiny. But that didn’t stop Mom. The borders all around the house were filled to overflowing with every imaginable type of flower. The little back porch had just enough room beside it for Mom to run strings up and down from the roof edge to stakes in the ground, and the Heavenly Blue Morning Glories would wind their way up and down the strings, often so dense that they provided welcome shade to our visitors. In the strip of dirt by the sidewalk leading up to that porch, a space about a foot wide by four feet in length, she planted nasturtiums. “They really like bad dirt”, said Mom. And she must have been right because they grew large and showed off their beautiful bright colors, always available for a little bouquet on the table at mealtime. There might only be two or three blossoms poked into Grandma’s old “hand vase”, a treasure I still use today.
And like every garden, we had visitors – some more welcome than others. Besides our two-legged friends, we were, and still are, visited by bees, and butterflies, and birds – and squirrels! The bees pollinate the flowers and vegetables; the butterflies are like winged flowers to bring more beauty; the birds add their color and songs to make the garden complete. The squirrels – well, they dig! They may be cute and fuzzy, but we’ve never been able to teach them to dig somewhere else. More than one “mighty-oak-wannabe” has been started in my garden by a cute little rodent “squirreling” away his winter cache.
But back to Mom’s garden. An area in the back yard by a chain link fence looked too plain to Mom, so she started a border there as well. At first it was about six feet long, but the next year it was about six feet longer – and another six feet the following year. When Dad teased her about it growing longer each year, she responded, “If you aren’t careful, it will grow another six feet next year – that’s where I plant my dead!” Needless to say, Dad didn’t bother her about her penchant for gardening. He just enjoyed the lovely results.
So I come by it naturally – this love of flowers. I plant them just like she did – seeds I gather or purchase, starts from friends and neighbors, and purchases of the “close-outs” of plants that are deemed less-than-perfect at local nurseries. My husband even had a container garden constructed on our open deck so I can just wander out in my bare feet, nippers in hand to pick a few veggies, pungent herbs, or a little bouquet of flowers – or just dig in the dirt. And I love every minute of it, relaxing in the sun and enjoying God’s creations nurtured by my hand.
And yes, I have Heavenly Blue Morning Glories and bright yellow and orange nasturtiums and iris and zinnias, and all those other flowers that Mom loved. She’d be proud!
Thanks Mom!
A Tribute to Mom by Joyce Vanderpool
I love flowers! All kinds, all colors, all seasons!
It all started with a mother who adored flowers. She didn’t just like to see them or plant them or smell them or pick them. She adored everything about them.
Mom loved digging in the soil, usually starting out with gloves but quickly discarding them to just feel the rich warm earth between her fingers. Then she’d plant flowers – all kinds of flowers from all kinds of sources. Sometimes they were seeds she saved from the previous year or purchased new in the spring. Other times they were “starts” from neighbors’ and friends’ yards. Other times she just found them – like the irises that had been discarded along the road or the jack-in-the-pulpits she discovered in the nearby woods. In her mind, they were all special, no matter where they had come from.
When the weather was warm enough, there were flowers planted in the yard. When it was cold, she gathered up flowers from older arrangements at church or the funeral home and made new fresh and lovely works of art. Often the flowers in the front of the church on Sunday morning were “recycled” from a recent funeral, but nobody knew the secret about where they might have come from – except Mom and me, of course. After all, Mom thought that the flowers were still a living tribute to the deceased, and were to be enjoyed as long as possible.
The rental house we lived in was small and the yard was tiny. But that didn’t stop Mom. The borders all around the house were filled to overflowing with every imaginable type of flower. The little back porch had just enough room beside it for Mom to run strings up and down from the roof edge to stakes in the ground, and the Heavenly Blue Morning Glories would wind their way up and down the strings, often so dense that they provided welcome shade to our visitors. In the strip of dirt by the sidewalk leading up to that porch, a space about a foot wide by four feet in length, she planted nasturtiums. “They really like bad dirt”, said Mom. And she must have been right because they grew large and showed off their beautiful bright colors, always available for a little bouquet on the table at mealtime. There might only be two or three blossoms poked into Grandma’s old “hand vase”, a treasure I still use today.
And like every garden, we had visitors – some more welcome than others. Besides our two-legged friends, we were, and still are, visited by bees, and butterflies, and birds – and squirrels! The bees pollinate the flowers and vegetables; the butterflies are like winged flowers to bring more beauty; the birds add their color and songs to make the garden complete. The squirrels – well, they dig! They may be cute and fuzzy, but we’ve never been able to teach them to dig somewhere else. More than one “mighty-oak-wannabe” has been started in my garden by a cute little rodent “squirreling” away his winter cache.
But back to Mom’s garden. An area in the back yard by a chain link fence looked too plain to Mom, so she started a border there as well. At first it was about six feet long, but the next year it was about six feet longer – and another six feet the following year. When Dad teased her about it growing longer each year, she responded, “If you aren’t careful, it will grow another six feet next year – that’s where I plant my dead!” Needless to say, Dad didn’t bother her about her penchant for gardening. He just enjoyed the lovely results.
So I come by it naturally – this love of flowers. I plant them just like she did – seeds I gather or purchase, starts from friends and neighbors, and purchases of the “close-outs” of plants that are deemed less-than-perfect at local nurseries. My husband even had a container garden constructed on our open deck so I can just wander out in my bare feet, nippers in hand to pick a few veggies, pungent herbs, or a little bouquet of flowers – or just dig in the dirt. And I love every minute of it, relaxing in the sun and enjoying God’s creations nurtured by my hand.
And yes, I have Heavenly Blue Morning Glories and bright yellow and orange nasturtiums and iris and zinnias, and all those other flowers that Mom loved. She’d be proud!
Thanks Mom!
