Roots

Plato in his Timaeus stated, "behold we are not an earthly but a heavenly plant."

When I was little, I went to the Oklahoma State Fair and saw my grandma's roses that were exhibited in competitions. I was so young, but I could recall an exquisite rose (the size of my head) that was unbelievably healthy and pretty. I was beaming with pride to see the first place ribbon on it.
Her backyard was a gardener's garden. It was a haven for all. There was a tree with a bricked patio surrounding it, and a bench to sit on and enjoy the spectacle all about. All around the yard were rows of flowers. She actually had them labeled, and presented in a lovely array within categories. Hers was no hodge podge garden, Emma Jane's garden had amazing purpose and power. I am sure she spent many hours working in her sacred place. Imagine how fun it was to play in it, and celebrate Easter there.
I have the gift of her green thumb. I know her children are plant charmers as well. My twin sister is a florist, and has the gift and love for being around flowers that Memaw had. It's a love that has been passed on, but it is also a way of life. My plants are not just my decorations, they are what brings the beauty of God's earth into my home. They are apart of the family, like pets. I can sense the atmosphere within these living creatures. And man, if one does not make it, (rare) I am seriously taken aback. If perchance my little "loves" are thriving, I am happy as well.
Are they indication of my life? Growing, moving toward the light, healthy, giving and communicating...perhaps they are a glimpse of one's character. If you have taken the time to breathe on the plant, focus on it's well being, enjoy watching it grow, pruning it, chasing off it's buggy's and the like...then when you see someones lavish plants - you know they were cared for. Plants are God's gift to us, to show us the fruit of that labor. Many things in life that we do never display allllll the hard work we put into it, there is no measurable movement. Not so with plants; they tell you how they are doing - visibly.
Some of my most treasured plants were gifts, or were starters from some one else's garden. Now, that is an amazing feeling; to grow a plant from seed, or re-rooting. My mom had a little plant that she kept at her desk at work. Hope, my eldest daughter painted its pot with flowers and hearts. When mom died her co-workers gave me the little plant. They said she pined over the thing, and if it wasn't watered when she was gone, they would get an ear full. It has been the slowest growing plant I have ever seen. I thought it was a flower, but there was no bloom. At one point all its leaves fell off and I thought- it was dead. You cannot imagine how bolstered my heart was when the leaves came back! My sister came in from out of town to tell me it was a baby lemon tree. The baby lemon tree has now lost its leaves again, and it might be the end for her. I think I am ready to let it go now. It served its purpose well, in reminding me of my mama when I water her. It has reminded me further of how mom is still with me; returned to the earth, in some form. Her makeup is in the air, dust, clouds, and yes...in the plants. Just something to think about -maybe that is why we are always reminded to stop and smell the roses; and I do every time I get a chance. I think of my family of flower and plant lovers.

By the way, my great, great, great, grandfather is:

Chief of the Potawatomis

Chief Abram B. Burnett

(Nan-Wesh-Ma)

"He who prays with plants"


November 1812-June 14, 1870

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

I WILL NOT QUIT

Talking to kids about Drugs

I told my son, "Screw you."