4,000 GARDEN LADIES

Tree-trimming time. (All photos by Marylin Warner)

 

Dear Mom,

When I was growing up, there were many times when I came into the kitchen for a drink of water on a summer day, and you would say, “Oh, you brought along a friend.”  You taught me to gently cup my hand over the Lady Bug on my arm or my neck or my shirt, walk back outside and free it near a rose bush or on the branch of a tree.  “Lady Bug, Lady Bug, fly away home…”

Last week, Jim and I hired a tree service to do some major work around our house in Colorado. They removed infected trees, trimmed others, planted a slow-growing pine in place of a diseased tree they’d removed. The arborist pointed out aphids in our two huge maple trees in front of the house. You would like him, Mom; instead of spraying the trees to treat the problem, he sent us to a nursery for two bags of Lady Bugs.  4,000 hungry little red friends who were starving for aphids.

That night after sunset, Jim and I opened the mesh bags in the cross sections of the maples. They swarmed out and immediately trailed up the branches like soldiers marching into battle. Some fell on us, crawling on our arms, flying around our faces.  I loved it, and just as you taught me, I carefully released each one on the tree branch. It was a magical evening, reminding me of my childhood, and I  decided I could be very happy being a part-time Lady Bug releaser!

In Dostoevsky’s novel, THE BROTHERS KARAMAZOV, the main character says this in the final chapter: “There is nothing nobler, stronger, healthier and more helpful in life than a good remembrance, particularly a remembrance from childhood. A beautiful, holy memory preserved from childhood can be the single most important thing in our development.”

Dostoevsky never knew Lady Bugs in Kansas, never saw you smile as you helped me carefully transport them back outside, and he never knew of the hundreds of good memories I have of growing up with you and Dad as my parents. But I remember, and yes, those memories have made a profound difference in my life.   Thank you, Mom.

Love, Marylin

Young Gannon and Grace, receiving the portrait of their great-great-grandmother Grace, so they’ll know about her life.

MOTHER OF THOUSANDS

When I was growing up, Mom, you always had plants started in jars, lining window ledges, peeking around books and knick-knacks on shelves. You grew basil, oregano, dill, and rosemary on the kitchen window ledges, and you grew African Violets from teeny-tiny seeds under grow lights. When someone was in the hospital or in need a thinking-of-you visit—and you had an uncanny way of knowing who needed some TLC–you tied a ribbon around pink or purple or white violets and delivered them with a hug.

Recently I discovered a wonderful new plant. The mouthful name is Kalanchoe daigremontiana, but it’s the nickname that captured my imagination: Mother of Thousands Plant. Originally from Madagascar, the succulent produces thousands of “baby” plants along the edges of its leaves (click on the plant pictures below for close ups). When the baby buds drop off the leaves, wherever they land they start new plants.  Very mature plants with tall stems will occasionally produce exotic red and purple blossoms.

Even though you never had Mother of Thousands plants around the house, this is the plant that makes me think of you. Everything you’ve done throughout your life, Mom—however private or public—made a difference in the lives of others. Neighbors, employees, children, teens and adults, all blossomed because of your kindness, your compassion, your listening ear, and mugs of herbal tea served with snickerdoodle cookies. I’ve seen the smiling, relaxed people who left your kitchen table, Mom, and I like to think that they each went on to share that with others. Paying it forward is the current expression for what they did; indirectly, that made you the Mother of Thousands of better moments in others’ lives.

Before David and I were born, you suffered four miscarriages. Maybe that’s why children have always been infinitely precious to you, Mom, but you were equally kind and supportive of all ages.  Each good deed dropped seeds that took hold, and from there more goodness was spread. In your 94 years, I imagine you improving much of the world.

You really are a Mother of Thousands, and I’m grateful that you’re my mom.

Love, Marylin                                                                 

Kansas Butterfly

Dear Mom,

You always enjoyed the butterflies fluttering around as you worked in the garden.

On a recent visit to Milford Nature Center in Kansas, Jim and I enjoyed the way your great-grandchildren showed the same appreciation for the many fluttering beauties in the Butterfly House.  This is one of the pictures we all thought you would like.

Love to you from all of us!

Remember: Just when the caterpillar thinks the world is coming to en end…God makes it a butterfly.

(from a plaque at Kansas Originals near Wilson, KS.  No author given)

Autumn Star Clematis

Dear Mom,

Emerson said, “Earth laughs in flowers.” You taught me to love working in the garden, feeling earth between my fingers, planting all kinds of fruits and vegetables…and flowers. Thank you, Mom.

Here’s a view for you of my deck.