Then somewhere in my late twenties we bought our first home and it was a new construction. The landscaping that came with our house was at best sparse and truth be told it should be more accurately described as uninspired and barren. So we set off to the local building supply company for a few containers of this and that to take the area and make it ours.



That led to a few more trips that turned into a station wagon filled with flowers for a spring or two and then a Mini van with all the seats removed teeming with trees, grasses, and perennials after spending the entire winter reading books and magazines, and watching the countless hours of gardening and home improvement shows on the weekend mornings.

Eventually we settled into the type of plants and garden designs that suited our land scape, taking a three quarters of an acre lot and adding an extended rolling back yard with a little professional help.

Roses were the corner stone of the garden by our front walk. Now I've already admitted I like flowers, but I absolutely love roses . I've never stopped to think about why. I just did and that was that. As I age, I find myself spending more time thinking about why I do things rather than doing them just because - finally it all started to make sense.

I played sports because my dad played sports. I love to cook in part because of my mother but also because when big family event were held it was my uncle who then and now mans the kitchen. The reality is that with age I 've come the conclusion as to why I garden.

Sure the flowers are pretty. In a lot of respects I still love the physical nature of the work, the chance to break a sweat and get a little dirty. It's an escape and a way to relax, to look at something that's been done and take pride in it and to learn patience with trial and error. My flower beds, herb gardens and lawn all give me something to look forward to with each changing season.

Chances are these are many of the same reasons but if you look deeper there might just be something a little more. The Roses were my take on the rose gardens my mother had at the houses we lived in during my youth. The one I spent the most years in was maybe 5 bushes in front of a white picket fence and was always seemingly plagued with beetles. The second was larger and more elaborate with a rose gravel walk way winding through it, a path very similar to one I would emulate to house a vegetable garden on one side and flowers on the other at my own home years later.

The memories of a sun porch filled with countless potted plants and the proverbial little old grand ma, in my case, in a grey house dress and black shoes holding a watering can and talking to each plant as she passed, grumbling a bit at the ones that weren't growing quite so well.

Now you can find me in a quiet moment discussing how well my spider plant is or isn't doing in a rather matter of fact manner. Or like her, spending time grumbling about the weeds in one flower bed or another, lamenting what happened to one patch of Phlox or another on a warm spring day.

There is the memories of the morning glories on my the long porch of my childhood home, the summer mornings behind their foliage with the flowers opened wide, humming birds coming in to take a quick drink from the feeder and the simplicity of it all. Not a care in the world except for what to do next and what time was dinner.

When you get down to it that's why you can find me outside on the lawn, whiling away the time in the garden, and remembering all those other wonderful times and people that plants represent to me.

Now if you'll excuse me, there's a few sunflowers that need a good talking to.

Happy Growing!