I’d like to be a toddler, walking through the garden at my grandfather’s heels, digging my toes into the sweet earth…once more, just once more.
I don’t know what most people grow up with anymore. Here in AR, maybe more people than elsewhere grow up with a garden. Maybe not. I was child to an older mother, so my childhood was much like that of someone a generation older than myself, when gardens were somewhat more commonplace.
A garden to me means summer, sweat, canning, family. It means fresh veggies, taking the long way around the yard so as not to disturb the plants, and old folks enjoying the pleasures of a front porch. It means good stories, and cold water, and hot coffee.
What does a garden mean to you? What feelings are you trying to capture with your garden–no matter how small it may be? Perhaps it’s something more simplistic than what I’ve outlined here. Whatever it is, consider it as you begin considering what to plant in the next couple of months.