Reflections

I just spent three weeks gardening with my Mom. She will be 95 in August and her sense of garden design is as wonderful as ever. Her front yard beds are on level ground. Navigating them is relatively easy. In back, she is coping with a short but steep berm. Pine needles, tree roots and layers of mulch and compost make the slope treacherous to navigate. Rather than stop gardening, she let the earth talk to her and gardens accordingly. Hostas thrive in the mixed shade. Vinca races toward the sun on the one end, but other groundcovers stay put. The birdbath was attracting large crows that drove out all the songbirds.She has installed a geranium pot instead. Gardening is not a constant as we age. Neither is life itself. Mom handles both with grace and ingenuity. A memory I will treasure always.