- Author: Jean-Margaret Strauss
When you move from your home after 40 years, you leave behind solid memories like the heights of children's growth penciled in doorways. Even the sun that shined on my face in bed every morning imploring me up has moved to a new location, the library. I witness fewer sunrises.
Last week's Master Gardener propagation class opened exciting opportunities. That same day I started lavender and other drought-tolerant shrubs for spring planting. The clay was finally dry enough to dig for my dwarf Meyer Lemon tree. My toddler granddaughter helped return the native soil to the hole. And I flashed on the Meyer I left behind, the memorial for my father which my daughter and son planted decades ago. Back in San Francisco is the forsythia my mother planted the spring my daughter was born; the red twig Dogwood honoring our beloved Moe who waited at the gate for school to end. On and on the old garden returned to me special memories.
Now with the skills of the propagation class, I am inspired to take cuttings of those very specimens. And bring them back to my everyday reminisce, consciousness. Oh yes. Dad's favorite lemon recipe, Nicolashka: bite one thick slice of lemon, chew well one coffee bean and kick back one shot of good vodka. Bottoms up = pronounced icky doogna in my childhood brain. Today I taught my granddaughter cheers with my tea and her sippy cup, hoping she will remember our time together too.