Gary and I planted our summer garden this weekend. It was a lovely way to spend time together as a family- working hard, and getting dirty in the sunshine. I'm grateful that Gary works really hard to make our yard a happy place for our family. And Juliet loved it. I can't wait for my summer tomatoes, my very favorite of the summer crop. We also tried a couple new things this year- I'm eager to see if the corn does well.
As I pulled out our supplies from the garden shed, I found a big bag full of seeds, with a note attached from my mom. My mom- the organic gardening queen, who was raising her own vegetables, fruits, and even chickens, decades before it become hip and chic. Ahead of her time in her own special ways. When I worried and grieved that she hadn't been able to leave anything behind anything special for us, for me, I was wrong. It didn't come in the expected way, but this is what she left behind- a note that was 3 years old, but came at just the right time.
This garden, and every garden that Gary and I plant, is in her memory and her honor, and so my daughters will have a little piece of their grandma in their backyard. It's a special place. A sacred place.