Some of you know that my Dad was a landscape artist.
He would design his client’s yards into a beautiful work of art. He would make drawings of 6 months, 2 years, and 10 years so they could see the growth of the trees and plants over time.
My brother and I always worked in our yard on Meadowfield because it was my Dad’s portfolio.
I hated it then but now I know:
*Tending to my garden is growing my soul.
*Digging in the dirt grounds my spirit.
*When I prune away the dying parts, the living flourishes.
*The fragrance of a bloom can bring peace to the weary.
*A small acorn holds the promise of a mighty Oak.
I have come a long way, Dad.
I know you are proud that I love working in my yard.
I feel you with me early in the morning when I dead-head my flowers.
I know you are here when I ask questions about how to do this or that.
I know my interest in having different flowers bloom every season is because of you.
This week I have been adding sod to the places where the grass doesn’t grow. It was hard work in the heat but I know it will make a big difference eventually. After all, I want my yard to be the loveliest in the neighborhood…
just like you did.
(If you want to read more about growing-up-gardening, go to page 181 in my memoir, Forgetting To Fly. (http://forgettingtofly.com)
So, this Father’s Day I want to thank you Dad for teaching me how to put my hands in the dirt and make things grow.
