My mother loved to garden.
Her only problem was
That for much of her life
She lived in two different towns
At the same time.
Sometimes even two different states!
That made tending a garden
A bit of a challenge for her.
When Daddy finally retired
They added a greenhouse
To the house on the farm.
She would putter there for days.
I watched her tenderly
Prick out baby lettuce plants
And give them their own home.
Knowing that since they lived in the country
Chances were pretty good
That a mouse
Would likely enjoy more lettuce
Than she would.
But she kept at it
Year after year.
She died suddenly one summer
While we were all on vacation together
Leaving everything in her life
And her greenhouse
As something of a still life.
One glorious fall day
I walked into
Her untended playpen
To find it full of vines
Covering floor to ceiling
And loaded with dozens of
Baby Boo Pumpkins.
She had been gone
For over a year.
Yet the power of a seed
Brought her right back
To me and my memories
Of her in this place.
Perhaps that’s why
I have an endlessly
Growing collection
Of seeds.
They connect me to the past
And show me
The hope of the future.
Gail
“A seed neither fears light nor darkness, but uses both to grow.”
― Matshona Dhliwayo
In My Garden 
Lovely memory of a woman I think I could have had some great conversations with.
Yes, you would have had a lot in common.