Perennials of color, friendship and renewal.
My flower garden will never be featured in Better Homes & Gardens. It is hardly picture perfect, often needs weeding and lacks real symmetry. It consists almost exclusively of perennial plantings and giant hosta plants to which I add color with hanging pots of flowers. What is significant about my garden is the connection to people in my life that it represents.
My main garden runs along the driveway. In this area against the fence are "live forevers," (I believe the official name is sedum), a green leafy plant that has a lavender color flower and makes a good border. I remember getting one little sprig of this plant in a plastic bag which my brother, Michael, handed to me before I left for the airport following a visit to his home in St. Louis. "Here, these will grow anywhere," both he and his wife promised, "and, they'll live forever."
That little sprig has expanded into seven or eight sturdy plants. Though the plants may live forever, both Michael and Sharon died young, within a year of each other. I truly cherish these reminders of them.
My pink azalea bush, along with most of the shrubbery in the front of my house found its way to us when a brother-in-law had a temporary job at a local nursery one summer and came by some bargain plantings. Terry will always come to mind when I look at these bushes. They give our house and yard a sense of balance.
Without them it would look very dull and lacking. In a similar fashion, by his unwavering faith and optimism, Terry brightens our outlook and gives us a different perspective.
The mountain laurel bush had its origins in Shelburne Falls from a co-worker of my husband, who dug it up from his property. Sandy Jenks was a good man and a good friend and this bush is much like he was, sturdy, well rooted and consistent.
The beautiful Rose of Sharon bushes came from my late mother-in-law's yard and every summer they are covered with hundreds of double pink blossoms reminding me of the bountiful, giving person who was once part of my life.
A huge lavender plant brought home as a seedling by my daughter in a small clay pot, has reached three feet in diameter. Many people have asked for a piece of this plant which I can't give them as it is all on one root and spread out in every direction.
I can only hope the same for my daughter -- reaching in every direction but connected to one solid root. Various colored chrysanthemums, lilies and tulips replanted from many Easter and Mother's Day offerings from my son and daughter come up every year as if they were coming home for a visit.
A small purple begonia from an aunt peeps out from the thick ferns on the shady side of the house. The bright color is striking against the green ferns. Ida was a relative by marriage and was present in our lives in a non-intrusive manner and, like the begonia, added so much by her presence.
A beautiful cluster of Irises came from a handful of bulbs that a favorite aunt gave me many years ago. Those few bulbs have multiplied and now take up a quarter of the garden. They are tall and striking when in bloom. These beautiful flowers are a lasting gift and tribute to her spirit.
From this same aunt, I have a peony bush that was originally planted by my grandfather and has a long history. I have a picture of me as a five-year old in front of this same bush. It takes several years before peonies "take" and actually bloom. This year, for the first time, I had one peony.
My mother tells of the time when this bush was ready to bloom for the first time. That particular June, it was loaded with buds, which resemble green balls, and my grandfather was looking forward to seeing it in full bloom.
However, my two brothers, both very young at the time, discovered this bush full of green balls, and couldn't resist the temptation to pick them and fling them at each other -- better than snowballs! My mother was furious and wanted to punish them, but my grandfather wouldn't hear of it. He was not a believer in punishment, especially for his grandkids. He would wait until next year to see the peonies in bloom. He was so right -- they did come back the next year and are still coming back over 60 years later!
A lilac bush in the backyard is from a neighbor's yard. It was dug up to make room for a pool and given to me along with a profusely growing ground cover plant. I always think of the day that the pool liner was installed -- most of the neighborhood helped carry it and put it in place.
Another neighbor known for his green thumb gave me primrose plants and some unknown tall pink and white flowers that adorn the other side of my house as well as numerous gladiolas that I can still see my daughter planting way back when. These beautiful blooms are a welcome sight every July and August.
The latest addition to my garden is a rose bush from a cousin. This rose bush is now more than 80 years old. It took a few years transplanted, but it produces hundreds of beautiful yellow roses with a heavenly smell.
My garden is a collection of living memories of beloved family members, many now lost as well as an annual renewal and continuity of the friendships made along the way that have made the journey more meaningful.
Joan Morris Reilly is the author of "A Hungry Hill Trinity," and the recent "Other Voices, Other Times: Hungry Hill Remembered," available on Amazon.com. She was also a contributor to The Republican's "The Irish Legacy: A History of the Irish in Western Massachusetts."