I planted them out back at the beginning of spring. My wife, Jackie, had given them to me before she passed on.
My next door neighbor, Andy, noticed my sadness and suggested gardening as a way of coping. It’s good for the soul, he said.
Later, I showed him the aforementioned seeds. He took one look and had no idea about their origin or how to properly plant them. However, he still gave some helpful advice-give them some sun and water and little bit of love.
So I gave them all the love I had and then some. God knows I had plenty.
I checked on them daily, watching their progress. Eventually, they began to poke their heads out of the soil and later, stretch out their arms for all to see. They’re coming up nicely, better than I ever could have imagined. They feel so soft, almost like skin. And the flowers are beginning to blossom. Those further along, have these little sad faces. I can almost see a bit of myself inside. The sadness I mean.
Sometimes I sing to cheer them up and if you listen closely, on a windy afternoon, you can hear them sing back. It’s the sweetest thing I ever heard. The sweetest I say.
Maybe you should stop by sometime. It would be fun, I guarantee it. We can have some lemonade, maybe a piece of apple pie. And then maybe you could come out back and have a look at the garden. I’m sure my plants would love to meet you.