The Grandma Garden

We started the Grandma Garden even before my mother died. She helped plan it and we moved some of the plants from her garden here after my Dad sold their house. The backbone of the garden is formed by the concrete stepping stones, which my parents cast whenever grandkids were visiting. The stones bear the imprint of all the grandkids hands, feet, and initials. All else in the garden changes with the seasons and with the years, but the path remains.

When we started the garden, it was in a very sunny part of the yard. But the wax myrtles and other surrounding trees in the yard have gotten a lot bigger and provide some welcome shade. Lately, I've been putting in various kinds of ginger because they love the shade, they are beautiful and provide a nice scent when they bloom. I've got this white butterfly ginger and some blue, purple and red varieties that bloom at different times and have very different shapes and sizes.

One year, my brother Jack drew my name in the family Christmas lottery. His very inspired gift was a statue family with five children -- one for each of my parents' five kids. They are even the correct sex and relative age for our family. The little "Sudie" character possibly was supposed to be a boy, but since she was such a tomboy, it is appropriate.

The eagle represents Dad, the clan patriarch, who keeps a stern watch over the flock. The kazoo on his shoulder is ever ready for a quick tune or an organizing call.

The sign next to the Commander came from Christy and says:

The kiss of the sun for pardon
The song of the birds for mirth
One is nearer God's heart in the garden
Than anywhere else on earth

Erica got Oreo, the cat, a month after Mom died. And Oreo seemed to sense that there was a connection there. She spent many hours in the Grandma Garden, sleeping, playing and just hanging around. Whenever I worked in the garden, Oreo was sure to show up sooner or later to see what was happening. Once she got very sick and quit eating for a few days. She disappeared and we found her in the garden. I'm convinced that she went out there to die. We forced her to come inside and fed her some healing yogurt from our local dairy. She slowly got better. We eventually lost her to the deadly neurotoxin of a coral snake bite. She is the only cat that has had the privilege to be buried in the Grandma Garden.