My grandfather loved to garden. He actually started the community garden at his house in Red Fox Hills when we were little kids. I will never forget walking down those old wooden steps past the blackberry bushes into the green belt by Trion creek. It made him happy. Up until the week he died he was working in my mom's perrenial garden at our Redmond house. It was his happy place.
I'm named after my grandmother and I am going to name my first daughter after her (and my best friend since I was born), but I definately inhereted Pop's green thumb. There is something about getting dirt under my fingernails and wet patches on my knees that makes me feel like I was just on vacation for a week in mexico drinking margaritas and eating my weight in chips and fresh salsa.
This year I am growing tomatos, peppers, basil, and chives. And roses, and cactus, and a palm tree, and a grapefruit tree, and strawberries, and kangaroo paw, and an orchid, and a hydrangea, and some jade plants, a honeysuckle, bouganvilla, and some other kind of vine that was dying but needed a little love and my Christmas tree.
Its the one place that nobody gets to ask me to do anything for them. Its the only place where I don't have to be in charge. I just get to give them water, pull out the weeds, trim and