Stories

Each of us has a story. We tell our story until we are finished telling it.

I tell my story with pictures of the flowers and bugs that visit my gardens. The zinnias are full of Skippers today. They are in full bloom. Lots of pollen. Early Autumn this year.
The Rosemary is blooming for the second time. The recent rains have been a blessing to all of the plants. The Buckeye shares with the other pollen eating bugs. There is plenty.

Certain flowers are memory flowers. They came to me from my Father or my Grandparents. Certain trees were gifts. I connect with those that have gone before me.

I mark my life by events in the garden. I will tell the story of the ice storm. Floods, drought, wind storms, lightening hits, the heat waves and cold snaps all effect me. The early snow storm of October 22, 1993, is part of my story.
When I am sad or happy I go to the gardens. When I am tired or full of energy I go to the gardens. It is outside with the flowers and vegetables and herbs, the bugs and birds I find peace. It is outside with the clouds and the stars I know
we are one. It is when I plant my seed I have hope. It is when I gather my seed I trust another Spring will dawn.
I am a gardener.