In memory of Carol Jarvis-Kirkendall April 28, 1937 – November 20, 2013
I grew a garden this past year.
It was a first of a lifetime.
Never done this before. Never grew flowers. Never grew anything edible. Never understood how Carol could get so enthralled working her hands in damp earth. Never had that desire myself. Never expected I would.
Didn’t need it. Was doin’ fine without it. I mean “What’s in a flower?” You can buy it all at the grocery store or find a farmer. There’s no profit in a garden.
But she taught me to be open to new experiences.
So in honor of Carol Ann, the woman who inspired so many memorable firsts in my life. . .
and with some help in getting started,
I grew and tended my garden.
It was earth hand-tilled by Carol in the weeks before she passed. She used to sit out there on a cushion using her little hand-spade, digging up weeds and tossing them aside, picking stones and placing them where she thought they ought to be.
She took off her gloves to knead the earth with her fingers. She had hands-full of love for all of life. She tended her gardens with a quiet feminine reverence. She said her gardens loved her back.
Gardens can love you back? I know you men are thinking I am over the edge, but hear me out.
I tended my garden as Carol would have. It was not long before I began to have moments of insight. Like little pieces of a spiritual puzzle, the vision became more clear over the passing year.
I called it a memorial garden. When I tended it, I talked to Carol as she sat in her rocker watching and listening to me. She used to ask me to tell her a story. So I told stories and told her how much I miss her. I told her how grateful I was that I learned so much from loving her for twenty-eight years.
Well here’s the the thing that really surprised me. I mean knocked my socks off
Carol’s Memorial Garden grew sunflowers and snow peas right off the bat. Ate a lot of peas. Zinnias took over one side and seemed to just go on forever blooming. Then some weird green thing grew five feet tall, and overnight, burst out with a flower like I have never seen before, and then popped out with eight more, all of them bobbing in the breezes, happy as clams at high-tide. Call them Cosmos. Turns out both flowers are related to the daisy.
All through those bloomings, down on the ground a vine was growing and stunning me with ongoing hand-sized yellow/orange blossoms. As it got cooler at the end of the season, I finally harvested two pumpkins for pies
I put a lot of love and reverence into the garden like Carol would have. It was a great experience. I love the fact that I am still inspired by her influences.
Of course, autumn had to show up. The food and flowers dried up brown, dead and gone. One year after my beloved’s passing. my garden’s beauty faded and is blowing away with the cold winds.
But check this out. I have placed seeds in envelopes for next year. I am preparing for spring. She would be proud. She’s probably chuckling right now.
And yeah, the garden loved me back.
No doubt about it.
Check out the sunflowers.
Weren’t they grand!