Garden of Memories

The profile of Sammy Eber and her garden brought me to a sad state of homesickness. I was sucked in by the description of the garden's wildness, and as I continued reading, I started to think about my mother, three hours away. You see, my mom is a gardening fanatic just like like Eber. Not only that, but my mom has a degree in chemistry, too. Her other degree is in horticulture -- surprising, right? I do not know how many times I've seen her spend the entire day outside, planting and transplanting flowers and shrubs. It's hard to find her on those days; the wilderness she has created often seems to swallow her. She's building a house in the country now, and her main concern for this winter is that she gets her bulbs planted out there. She takes cuttings of plants she likes wherever she goes. A couple of years ago she flew to Germany to visit her mother. What did she bring back? Cuttings, of course. Although I love flowers, I haven't inherited this passion for gardening, and I often find myself mystified about her excitement. I sometimes wish I could understand why gardening means so much to her. I'm very close to my mom, so it frustrates me not to know why she values something. I suppose this is necessary; there will always be things she doesn't understand about me, and it's logical that this works in reverse as well. I know her passion does affect me, though. Despite my lack of interest in planting, nature itself has a startling effect on me, both soothing and energizing. Mostly, I think, I am in awe of it. Taking a walk in the woods often takes my breath away. I am indebted to my mother for passing this appreciation on to me.