A Garden in Every Chapter

When I was a little girl, during those spring and summer months in Texas, I could usually find my mom outside planting flowers. She would be wearing her old, worn-out green floral bikini, her tanned skin glistening and her mind lost in her own thoughts — completely content. The large garden near our front door greeted visitors with rich purple irises, while the gardens surrounding the backyard pool were dotted with pink and white vincas.

There was a vegetable garden just beyond the pool. The space, corralled by railroad ties, was filled with radishes, chilis, and peppers. At the end of our long driveway were peach and apricot trees. I wish I could say that I gathered the sweet fruit and made homemade pies, but I don’t really remember eating them. I remember the blossoms on the trees, like popcorn popping on the apricot tree, and the beautifully sad weeping willows, but I don’t recall taking a bite of a sweet peach.

(I also remember having my first kiss at the bottom of that driveway, but that’s another story for another day.)

My mom taught me the love of gardening and being outside. Although, I’m not sure how when we were made to pull weeds — sometimes simply because that’s what we were told to do and sometimes for ten cents a weed. Still, that love for working in the dirt and watching things grow has stayed with me over the years. Whether it was asking my neighbor if I could till a piece of her unused property to make a garden at my first home or finding space along the side of our house for raised beds, I’ve always found a way to make it work.

For the most part, I am guessing and asking a lot of questions. I’ve had seasons where I had to hand-water everything, only to lose every living plant if we left for a few days to escape the Arizona heat. I now have a drip system in my raised beds, and it makes all the difference. I’ve learned to plant pollinators and when to add trellises. I’m even working on composting.

Mr. C and I added the arch trellis this year, and I love it. I have a little bird feeder and bird bath, along with lucky horseshoes hanging as you walk into the garden. We also added a garden bench filled with tools, pots, and lots of possibilities.

My favorite part of the day is walking out there early in the morning — coffee in hand, dogs at my heels, and birds singing around the feeder.

And my mom? At 80, you can still find her several days a week working in her flower beds. She has traded the old bikini for shorts and a T-shirt, but I bet her heart is still happy when her hands are dirty.

XO, Mindy

Becoming Me Again