The last days of spring are willowing away. While working in my yard this weekend, I found myself struck with the most vivid memories of childhood days spent at my grandmother's house. She lived on two large lots and her gardens were filled with fruit trees, rhubarb, grape vines, and all grandmothery kinds of flowers like peonies, lilies of the valley, hollyhocks, and irises. It was my own secret garden. For hours I would act out imagined stories using nature's props to make real my fantastic dreams. I spent countless early mornings and late afternoons hiding under trellises, crawling through lilacs, and dozing on cool, soft grasses under tall oak trees. I can still taste the berries picked from bushes and the cherries right from the tree.
Funny how a breeze can carry with it a lifetime of memories.
This spring the colours pierce,too opulent, too vivid . . .Something bruised in melongs for gardens from my childhood.~Maude Meehan, "Second Spring"
What memories do the winds of spring uncover in you?
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