Your words about the garden and transplanting are very comforting to me today. My mother passed away last Friday. It was not unexpected and it was peaceful and I was there. I know many don’t receive those mercies and I see them. Her memorial service is this coming Monday and I am delivering her eulogy. I have never done it before, I’m terrified of speaking in public and I know there is a good chance that my normally stoic demeanor will dissolve on that day. But I want to honor her appropriately and due to several factors, there’s no one else available that I trust to do that. She was a lover of all things green. Plants that looked dead would revive almost immediately for her. She loved to “piddle” with plants and after becoming too weak to do it herself, she continued to direct the rest of us. Thank you for these words and perspective today. They give me another way to think about my mother’s influence. Pray for me on Monday at 11. ❤️
That’s wonderful to hear, congratulations on your acceptance! And happy belated first day of school! :) I look forward to hearing more about your research project! Sending you good vibes.
I recently made an African red pepper sauce for burgers and dipping, and a Haitian spiced pineapple upside down cake - both from Everyone’s Table by Gregory Gourdet.
I also recently acquired a cypress tree from an event with the city’s parks & rec department. I love your gardening stories. They are insightful and helpful. I am a few steps behind you in my skills, but I’m taking care of my plants as best I can. Thank you always for your words.
It’s funny how something precious to us might be a pain for others. Beauty to Sally was a burden to the new owners, but even they knew the beauty was worth salvaging.
The weather here in Australia has shifted to our mild winter with a heavy dose of wind to go with, and I’ve watched my overgrown chilli plants bow in submission and awe to the weather - somehow, those scotch bonnets hang on tight. I’m hoping they hold long enough for them to dry on the plant so I can harvest and take them to my sister in law, who has a newborn and cannot tend to a garden right now as she’s tending a new life.
There’s grief in that for me. I long to hold a baby and grow that life, but for now I rejoice in the pumpkin vine that burst from the compost - a staunch reminder that life comes from death, and that life might just be abundant and take over a whole section of yard. I rejoice in the chilli that stands tall. I rejoice in the half painted fence and in the chickens that kick dirt at it constantly.
There’s beauty and there’s grief and it’s all okay.
Congratulations on beginning your Ph.D..! I hope you can still find some free time in there to care for yourself. I'm beginning my Th.M. in September and have similar concerns, but it will work out somehow. Seminary started me on the road to really questioning and clarifying what I believe and I'm excited and nervous to go back. Praying for both of us!
Congratulations on the adventure to new research! We are excited for you and will definitely remember you in prayer. Looking forward to hearing more about the journey. We'll be celebrating our 50th in Hawaii with family. Please include us in your prayers.
Sally's gardening legacy lives on through many other gardens, not just her own, I believe she would be happy with the benefit and blessing her hard work will make in the lives of others and others to come.
Congrats on your acceptance to the University of Stellenbosch. I used to live near there and always loved my little day trips or weekends in Stellenbosch… plus great wine if that’s your thing! I do hope you get to spend some time physically present there, it’s beautiful.
So glad that you came to an understanding that what the new homeowners were doing was actually an act of Grace and knowing that they were not the ones to keep that garden what it was. I'd be in a very similar spot, because despite how much I like greenery, I very much have a black thumb. Thank you for sharing this story, it sounds like a beautiful experience!
So beautiful and true about these plants blessing others in a diaspora of Sally's hard work, and how admitting our limitations can be the best option, even if it's bittersweet.
I've had some minor but annoying and limiting health issues this week, but the community and visibility and joy that pops up this time of year for Pride, like big colorful blooms, has given me energy.
Jeff- I enjoyed this newsletter so thoroughly! I could almost see and smell the flowers of which you wrote. What could have been a sad story turned into spreading not only flowers but joy to all your neighbors!
Thank you, will pray for you and happy that you continue to write for us even with your jammed pack schedule
Congratulations on your Ph.D opportunity, Jeff! Sounds fascinating - definitely prayers coming your way. When I think of Sally's years of nuturing and creating, I look over at my Christmas cactus that I've cared for since my first grade teacher gave us all small plantings at the end of the school year. She's an old girl now (I'm 62) but bloomed from December to May this year and is thriving after our move to Oregon two years ago. I've pruned her back (again) so she can rest. I'm wondering about Sally? Does she know that her plants are now everywhere in the neighborhood? I hope she is well. Thank you!
Jeff, I really value and appreciate your thoughts about the "rescue" of the garden and your affirmation of the young couple's idea to share the plants and also their acceptance of limitation of ability and interest to maintain what Sally created. What a generous idea to invite people to come with shovels and take what they wanted. I'm so grateful to be on you email list. Enjoy 21st grade.
Thank you for sharing this. I’m a longtime reader, first time commenter.
A few years back, my mother, who I had a difficult relationship with growing up, moved in with us to help with our children, both of whom had just been diagnosed with a degenerative neuromuscular disorder. Shortly after she moved in with us, we all moved into the house my husband grew up in. Very sadly, his mother had already passed, and his father was not feeling up to keeping up an entire house. So we moved in and became to make that home, our home. Part of this included giving some love to the yard and garden that his mother had cared so well for but that his father was not able to keep up with. Many of her plant babies still remain today. And each year, as I fertilize them and trim them, talk to them and talk badly about the weeds around them, I do it in her honor. I say “your mom’s roses are about to bloom” or “let your sister know that your mom’s peonies are beautiful this year.”
My mom moved out last year and into her own apartment. Over the years that she lived with us, we rebuilt parts of our relationship that was damaged. Other parts feel too far gone. But she, too, is a skilled gardener, and in the years she lived with us, she taught me the names of her favorite plants and when and how best to care for them. We found a columbines flower once, growing up in between the cracks on the edge of the patio and marveled at its tenacity. We found metaphors there, too, of course. This year, two columbines popped up at the base of the lilac bush that my mother in law planted years ago. Aged, cared for, well-loved lilacs with new, surprise baby columbines showing up in the lofty lilac branch shade. Life going on and as much as the world spinning madly on (nod to The Weepies), wrecks me. I’m trying to let it crack me open in a good way too.
So thank you for sharing this. It’s helped me this morning, sitting out on my porch, sort through some of my own thoughts.
Much love, peace, and prayers being sent your way.
Your words about the garden and transplanting are very comforting to me today. My mother passed away last Friday. It was not unexpected and it was peaceful and I was there. I know many don’t receive those mercies and I see them. Her memorial service is this coming Monday and I am delivering her eulogy. I have never done it before, I’m terrified of speaking in public and I know there is a good chance that my normally stoic demeanor will dissolve on that day. But I want to honor her appropriately and due to several factors, there’s no one else available that I trust to do that. She was a lover of all things green. Plants that looked dead would revive almost immediately for her. She loved to “piddle” with plants and after becoming too weak to do it herself, she continued to direct the rest of us. Thank you for these words and perspective today. They give me another way to think about my mother’s influence. Pray for me on Monday at 11. ❤️
That’s wonderful to hear, congratulations on your acceptance! And happy belated first day of school! :) I look forward to hearing more about your research project! Sending you good vibes.
I recently made an African red pepper sauce for burgers and dipping, and a Haitian spiced pineapple upside down cake - both from Everyone’s Table by Gregory Gourdet.
I also recently acquired a cypress tree from an event with the city’s parks & rec department. I love your gardening stories. They are insightful and helpful. I am a few steps behind you in my skills, but I’m taking care of my plants as best I can. Thank you always for your words.
It’s funny how something precious to us might be a pain for others. Beauty to Sally was a burden to the new owners, but even they knew the beauty was worth salvaging.
The weather here in Australia has shifted to our mild winter with a heavy dose of wind to go with, and I’ve watched my overgrown chilli plants bow in submission and awe to the weather - somehow, those scotch bonnets hang on tight. I’m hoping they hold long enough for them to dry on the plant so I can harvest and take them to my sister in law, who has a newborn and cannot tend to a garden right now as she’s tending a new life.
There’s grief in that for me. I long to hold a baby and grow that life, but for now I rejoice in the pumpkin vine that burst from the compost - a staunch reminder that life comes from death, and that life might just be abundant and take over a whole section of yard. I rejoice in the chilli that stands tall. I rejoice in the half painted fence and in the chickens that kick dirt at it constantly.
There’s beauty and there’s grief and it’s all okay.
Congratulations on beginning your Ph.D..! I hope you can still find some free time in there to care for yourself. I'm beginning my Th.M. in September and have similar concerns, but it will work out somehow. Seminary started me on the road to really questioning and clarifying what I believe and I'm excited and nervous to go back. Praying for both of us!
Congratulations on the adventure to new research! We are excited for you and will definitely remember you in prayer. Looking forward to hearing more about the journey. We'll be celebrating our 50th in Hawaii with family. Please include us in your prayers.
Praying for you and Tristan as you embark on this new adventure. Excited to hear more about it and what you learn and experience through it!
Sally's gardening legacy lives on through many other gardens, not just her own, I believe she would be happy with the benefit and blessing her hard work will make in the lives of others and others to come.
Congrats on your acceptance to the University of Stellenbosch. I used to live near there and always loved my little day trips or weekends in Stellenbosch… plus great wine if that’s your thing! I do hope you get to spend some time physically present there, it’s beautiful.
So glad that you came to an understanding that what the new homeowners were doing was actually an act of Grace and knowing that they were not the ones to keep that garden what it was. I'd be in a very similar spot, because despite how much I like greenery, I very much have a black thumb. Thank you for sharing this story, it sounds like a beautiful experience!
So beautiful and true about these plants blessing others in a diaspora of Sally's hard work, and how admitting our limitations can be the best option, even if it's bittersweet.
I've had some minor but annoying and limiting health issues this week, but the community and visibility and joy that pops up this time of year for Pride, like big colorful blooms, has given me energy.
Jeff- I enjoyed this newsletter so thoroughly! I could almost see and smell the flowers of which you wrote. What could have been a sad story turned into spreading not only flowers but joy to all your neighbors!
Thank you, will pray for you and happy that you continue to write for us even with your jammed pack schedule
- smiles, Debbie
Thank you for being you and sharing your life and thoughts ~ I’m encouraged by the idea of what we can rescue and what to let go of.
Congratulations on your Ph.D opportunity, Jeff! Sounds fascinating - definitely prayers coming your way. When I think of Sally's years of nuturing and creating, I look over at my Christmas cactus that I've cared for since my first grade teacher gave us all small plantings at the end of the school year. She's an old girl now (I'm 62) but bloomed from December to May this year and is thriving after our move to Oregon two years ago. I've pruned her back (again) so she can rest. I'm wondering about Sally? Does she know that her plants are now everywhere in the neighborhood? I hope she is well. Thank you!
Just want to say Hi! Jeff. No earth-shaking wisdom, just Hello! to you and Tristan. Be well.
Jeff, I really value and appreciate your thoughts about the "rescue" of the garden and your affirmation of the young couple's idea to share the plants and also their acceptance of limitation of ability and interest to maintain what Sally created. What a generous idea to invite people to come with shovels and take what they wanted. I'm so grateful to be on you email list. Enjoy 21st grade.
Thank you for sharing this. I’m a longtime reader, first time commenter.
A few years back, my mother, who I had a difficult relationship with growing up, moved in with us to help with our children, both of whom had just been diagnosed with a degenerative neuromuscular disorder. Shortly after she moved in with us, we all moved into the house my husband grew up in. Very sadly, his mother had already passed, and his father was not feeling up to keeping up an entire house. So we moved in and became to make that home, our home. Part of this included giving some love to the yard and garden that his mother had cared so well for but that his father was not able to keep up with. Many of her plant babies still remain today. And each year, as I fertilize them and trim them, talk to them and talk badly about the weeds around them, I do it in her honor. I say “your mom’s roses are about to bloom” or “let your sister know that your mom’s peonies are beautiful this year.”
My mom moved out last year and into her own apartment. Over the years that she lived with us, we rebuilt parts of our relationship that was damaged. Other parts feel too far gone. But she, too, is a skilled gardener, and in the years she lived with us, she taught me the names of her favorite plants and when and how best to care for them. We found a columbines flower once, growing up in between the cracks on the edge of the patio and marveled at its tenacity. We found metaphors there, too, of course. This year, two columbines popped up at the base of the lilac bush that my mother in law planted years ago. Aged, cared for, well-loved lilacs with new, surprise baby columbines showing up in the lofty lilac branch shade. Life going on and as much as the world spinning madly on (nod to The Weepies), wrecks me. I’m trying to let it crack me open in a good way too.
So thank you for sharing this. It’s helped me this morning, sitting out on my porch, sort through some of my own thoughts.
Much love, peace, and prayers being sent your way.