On a recent visit to my mom’s house I saw this adorable pixie garden sitting outside on her potting bench. It caught my eye immediately for its tiny charm and delicious green mossy grass. When I got up close to it I was amazed at the tiny ornaments that were encased in the ceramic bird bath. A miniature garden? Hmm, what next??
My mom’s miniature garden is just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to her crafty hand, and green thumb. I’ve sat on the sidelines and watched as my mom spent hours upon hours of her weekend time toiling in the soil. It’s often been the joke of our family. What could she possibly be doing out there? What other flowers, and plants could she need?? What more garden trinkets could she add to her overgrown collection.
Only recently have I become curious about her garden interests. For me, up until now, playing in the garden was anything but playtime. I have often considered gardening a chore — a dirty, dreadful chore, that on most days, I want no part of. But, for my mother, it’s her therapy. When you look at the pictures of it, you can see why.
She takes pride in every petal on every branch. I recently asked her why she loves it so much, and what about this latest obsession with miniature garden’s?
She told me that she saw them in her favorite garden store about six months ago while shopping. Because she’s a garden fanatic she likes how childlike they are and feels there is something magical about the way they look.
My mom also makes gardens in abalone shells (succulent gardens) and has been doing this for a couple years. She does these in tribute to her best friend who died of cancer five years ago.
Gardening is definitely her passion. My mom and my stepfather are out in it every weekend. She loves to watch things grow. It’s therapy for her. Growing up in the Bay Area, she used to go back to Minnesota every summer to visit relatives. She thought it was beautiful that nobody had fences. Everyone had flowers and vegetable gardens and birdhouses. It stuck with her. At a young age of 10 she would wake up early and mow the lawn, even edged it herself. She did this to help out her father who worked long hours. She did this so he didn’t have to. Her favorite flowers (lilacs and peonies) are flowers that she remembered seeing on her visits to Minnesota.
As I settle into school, I see the emergence of a latent interest in gardening myself. I am only now becoming aware of how my mother has influenced me. If I can have just one inch of her green thumb I’ll be pleased.