I can travel 799.91 miles back to Texas in less than five minutes. Sitting in the sun on my deck here in Colorado with my favorite gardening hat over my eyes the familiar feel of my hat and its smell of the sweet black earth I left behind is all it takes.
I miss seeing bare trees at the house we built. I remember in the fall and winter stealing minutes throughout the day to memorize the way the trees look before spring covers everything in green. The beauty of the woods is simple--- just gray--- the gray oaks, birds, rabbits, squirrels, opossums, armadillos, and coyotes. In the early morning the gray is opaque; watching the trees I see movement, the shades of gray separate into animal forms.
I miss seeing the brightly colored flowers of spring I knew. My mind playing with the meandering path of color dots, carrying me off into the past, 35 years ago, running through a field near home with my dog. We run as fast as we can until we have to stop to catch our breath standing next to each other with our sides heaving. Walking back home I’m happy in the sun, knowing I will hear mom’s voice, and there would be water waiting.
I miss the flowers and wildlife I saw every year and all of the human traits I gave them. I love reading books about the meaning of each flower’s name and then deciding which person I know matches that description.
WORDS OF WISDOM/OLD SAGES
The tall purple and white iris reminds me of Grandma Frances' advice, "Stand up straight. Keep your shoulders back." I can see Grandma tall and thin among her friends; like the iris their varying heights punctuated with showy white heads.
BEAUTY/LOVE
The viola's delicate purple flowers surprise me from behind the brown rocks of the pond. Beauty can be seen in the most unlikely places. Their large heart shaped leaves remind me love is a gift without regard to size or age. I think of the friends Grandma Frances had. A group of 70+ year old women who played cards once a week and talked of love and live, past and present.
INNER STRENGTH
The pink rose has a very feminine appearance that hides strong inner strength. During difficult times the fragile looking rose can adapt to its environment and turn back to the wild. I remember when my delicate aunt gave birth to a premature and ill son; she kept harm away with large protective thorns I hadn’t seen before.
FAITH/TRUST
The water lily opens daily to float in the sun. Each night the bud closes and hangs at the top of the water holding trapped rays of sun, confidently waiting for a new day. Mom was often sick since she'd been diabetic since she was three years old, but she pushed worry out of her mind, trusted in God, and looked to see how she could help family and friends.
PERSERVERCE
The tulips move throughout the day following the sunlight and defying gravity by moving their large heads on graceful stems. They accomplish what they have been designed to do unaware of how impossible their feat appears. Our daughter has the ability to accomplish much and I can’t wait to see her figure this out!
SHARING/MOTHERING
The sunflower opens to the size of my hat. Birds come to take away the seeds that form the center. Some seeds fall to the ground to sprout later in the season. They are like kids, standing tightly at my feet with their heads tilted up to watch and imitate momma. I think of Deborah, our cousin, and her three kids that follow her lead.
STAMINA/ENDURANCE
In August heat overtakes both day and night in Dallas. The sun's setting giving only a brief reprise. My bed of zinnias will ignore the heat and send out flame colored blooms. Their leaves will be small and often dry as the plant sends all its energy to the top. The flowers will quickly drop seeds to add to next year's zinnia army. I see cousin Sandie and marvel at her strength through years of surgeries.
SELF-SUFFICIENT/SELF RELIANT
Bugs, birds, and small animals also live in my yard with the flowers. Unlike me they live together without walls or barriers. My walls and barriers is called a house--- I'm not sure if it's to keep me in, or things out.
I miss being outdoors in Texas so I dig a garden here in Colorado to see if I can’t fall in love again. Our yard is full of rocks, but there is a raised bed by the kitchen and here we till the dirt. Pulling weeds and grasses I see results and feel satisfied; I delight in a rare instance of immediate accomplishment. As my muscles tire I don’t miss Texas so much. Digging my hands into the soil, clasping my new piece of earth I’m working towards my goal connecting by something strong and simple, mutual touch.
