The memory of his mother, my great-grandmother Mamma Lizzie, are almost all of her garden. She would allow us to pick one flower on each visit to her. What type of flowers were in her garden, I do not remember, but the memory of that special pleasure remains.
Hydrangeas remind me of my grandmother. She had two large plants flanking her porch. I was always mesmerized by those large blue flowers. They seemed magical. I grow hydrangeas in my own garden to preserve that memory.
Her mother, my great-grandmother Mamma Lloyd, had a beautiful yard of crape myrtles and daffodils. Years after her death, the trees and bulbs she planted still continue to bloom each spring. That is her yard in the photo below, where the bulbs spring to life each year. The love of gardening continued by my father, who has grown vegetables in his own gardens for most of his life.
In my garden, memories are everywhere. Gifts given to me by family and friends include tools that I work with, and plants that grow and bloom. They are a special joy to behold. My son has dug the koi pond, helped create the walking garden, and moved more wheelbarrows full of mulch than I could count. My spouse's hand is everywhere, helping me with the garden in every aspect. There are even special memories of the grandchildren, picking flowers and feeding the fish.
Want to build a memory? Plant a garden.