Between the late season and my asthma I haven’t spent a lot of time in the garden this year. I was on Blog Talk Radio the other day talking about magic in the garden. I mentioned one of the beds I have is an ancestor garden. Given that it’s Memorial Day Monday and that I’ve been trying to get the annuals in (between thunder showers) that seemed to be a good topic for today’s blog.
My ancestor garden is the one along side the driveway, next to the entry we most frequently use. That way I see it all the time, winter and summer. Winter gardens are a real challenge up here, and my ancestor bed doesn’t make it, but just knowing it’s there under the snow is a reminder that my ancestors may no longer be with me, but that they are still there.
My ancestors are a mish-mash. I have represented ancestors of blood, ancestors of heart, and ancestors of spirit. My best friend from college is an ancestor of heart. He died 16 years ago and I still miss him almost every day. You’ve seen my bulbs, the tulips and hyacinths. (The trails are fading under the lavender.) He was a big fan of the spring flower shows. The bulbs I started there were from a spring planter he’d gifted to me the year before he died. My hope in the spring is also a hope that he’s still watching out for me. I usually manage to get a fall mum in for him as well.
My grandmother’s were both gardeners. My maternal grandmother grew sweet peas, but I’ve never gotten them to go. She also grew pansy’s and petunias. This year I put in viola’s for her. Those old-fashioned wild flowers are all very much representative of her country farm wife ways. My other grandmother had a flair for the exotic. She’d plant cotton bringing the seeds back from a trip south. Or she’d plant silver dollars for good fortune. There’s a hybrid daisy that thrives in that garden for her. The colors are bright and cheerful and I’ve never found another in the seed catalogues quite like it. Maybe I’ll post a photo when it blooms.
The kid’s paternal grandmother loved dusty miller. It was her favorite, I asked. I don’t particularly care for the plant, but when I put it in honoring her, it even winters over. I’ve come to appreciate its strength, resilience and alien simplicity. Now when I see it grow I smile and think of her kindness and patience.
For ancestors of the spirit you may see some Russian sage coming up between the chocolate mint. The sage is for one of my teachers. Russian sage is perennial and he had a fondness for Occidental cultures. The mint is a nod to the cooks, family and otherwise, who have influenced me along the way. I got it out of a friend’s garden in Detroit so there is an extra nod to her along the way.
The cycle of the garden is a microcosm of the cycle of life. Honoring my ancestors in this way I spend time tending their memories throughout the growing season and even in the winter. I pick and choose my annuals, filling in the blanks and sometime adding a new memorial for a season or as a permanent addition. These people are my foundation. They continue to nurture me in my journey as I nurture my garden. Blessed Be.
Posted on May 27, 2013, in daily practice, grattitude, meditation, Pagan, seasonal, spiritual and tagged Ancestor, Blog Talk Radio, Garden, Grandparent, Memorial Day. Bookmark the permalink. 5 Comments.