It’s still spring here near the eastern shore of Lake Michigan, although the heat is rising each day along with the humidity. Flowers are blooming—irises, rhododendrons, and a couple of blooms on the daylilies.
|daylily just starting to bloom|
|my favorite iris|
I love perennials, even though they only bloom for a short time (except for the daylilies which keep going most of the summer). They spread and return stronger and fuller each year. I'm sure I've mentioned before how many of my flowers (like irises and Shasta daisies) came from my mother's garden by way of several of my other houses. Lilies of the valley came from my grandmother's farm via my mom, etc. When I see those flowers, I feel a connection with Mom and Grandma.
|outside my office window|
I also brought tiger lilies from my mom's. Some people call them "ditch" lilies because they often grow wild in ditches along country roads. Do they ever spread! So I only brought a small clump from my old house. This is our second summer here in West Michigan, and already the perennials have shown how resilient they are.
Bloom where you are planted.
I can’t remember where I first read (or heard) that expression. It takes resiliency and flexibility to set down roots only to have them yanked out and transplanted again. Those of you who have moved with your (or your spouse’s) job know what I mean. Too often it’s the wife who doesn’t have a choice. She sets down roots, makes a nest, settles in, then—whammo—uprooted again. Flowers have been my way of bringing something of myself along, something that reminds me of “home”—wherever that is.
Home is a nebulous concept. It isn’t a house, although many refer to a building as their home. The slogan “it’s what’s inside that counts” refers to more than a product. What’s inside a house, or rather who’s inside makes a building a home. For our last three houses, it’s only been Hubs and me. We’re a family just as we were when we first married. But when our children and grandchildren are in the house, it’s feels so much better, like home. I understand the appeal of multi-generational homesteads.
In the television series Blue Bloods, an episode doesn’t go by without the entire Reagan clan (four generations) sitting around the dining room table for Sunday dinner. What a tradition. It helps that they all live close by. In today’s society, families are spread out across a state or even across the country. Too often extended families only get together for weddings and funerals. Maybe even a reunion.
How do we preserve the sense of family?
Diane Burton writes romantic adventure . . . stories that take place on Earth and beyond. She blogs here on the 8th and 30th of each month and on Mondays on her own site: http://dianeburton.blogspot.com/