Dedication
For my dad, who taught me to grow tomatoes in coffee cans.
For my sister, who shared secrets with me at the top of our magnolia tree.
There are many to thank. I am grateful for the tall magnolia tree that stood in our yard whose branches were my jungle gym. I am thankful for the azaleas of southeast Texas for their unabashed brilliance every spring. It was under the shade of wise oak trees that I studied for college exams. Next to an old grove of junipers that popped and crackled in the wind is where I married my partner.
Plants mark us. They do so whether we acknowledge it or not. They are there, along the periphery of our memories. And those memories might look less colorful without them. If you are a gardener, no doubt you have experienced the quiet wisdom and gentle kindness of Nature. No doubt you have also experienced the fierce reminder that Nature will do what Nature wants to do. Plants thrive. Plants die. Plants invade. Plants surprise. What exciting cycles we experience in our gardens!
So what is it about gardening for you? What is your dedication? If we are building a garden, if we are asking the plants to come and join us — to meet us and stay with us and witness us — what is the reason? For beauty? For food? For medicine? Where does your plant story begin?
