Flower Power… Minus the Power
As a little kid, I loved planting flowers with Mom. She taught me the whole process—dig the hole, sprinkle in a little fertilizer, set the flower in, pack the dirt around it, and then water. We repeated that ritual for years.
But somewhere along the way, my love for gardening wilted. It was much easier to just let Mom do it for me! When I moved to Beaver Dam, she handled most of my gardening. She’d practically have to drag me outside to help her—and I’d usually be holding a kid or baby, trying to use that as an excuse. Truth is, if Mom didn’t come over, the planting simply didn’t get done. Still, those years quietly taught me what worked and what didn’t.
Then came the summer that Mom had knee surgery and couldn’t come over to save me. My first thought? Oh shit—now what am I going to do?
By then, though, I knew the basics. I went out, bought the same flowers I always planted (and got sticker shock at the prices), and did it all myself. Of course, the very first thing I did afterward was call Mom. She absolutely filled my love tank when she said, “Holy cow! You did it all by yourself! Who are you and what did you do with Michelle?” That was the best fertilizer ever—Mom’s words of affirmation. 🌼
I didn’t actually start doing my own gardening until I was 50. These days, my porch and yard are proof that I really did learn from her. Every summer, I fill the three pots on my front porch with coral geraniums (in honor of Uncle Lloyd, whose favorite flower was the geranium), a spike, a daisy (my own favorite), and always some type of purple flower for contrast. The flower box overflows with two flats of colorful impatiens, purple draping flowers (bacopa), and a few vinca vines for good measure. My rusty bicycle plant holder sits next to the porch, showing off a couple of ferns—and, in the oblong holder, a metal container I once pounded into shape so it would fit just right. That container now overflows with coleus. Out back, an old-fashioned wash basin bursts with two flats of coleus, and in a few backyard pots, I sneak in purple African daisies—my little signature touch. Every flower holds a memory, and together they remind me of Mom, Uncle Lloyd, and the roots that keep growing.
Click here to check out other Sidetracked opinions
Click here to listen to the Sidetracked Legacies podcast
Want to create your own legacy? Join the Sidetracked Sisters and start now!
Ever thought about working with a Life Coach? Are you a woman over 50 who feels unfulfilled in your long-term relationship? Lisa can help you rekindle love and joy, and avoid a “gray divorce.” Check out Lisa Hoffman Coaching.
#sidetrackedsisters #sidetrackedchelle #sidetrackedsanity #sidetrackedlegacies #legacywriting #legacystories #writeyourownlegacy #LisaHoffmanCoaching #GardeningJourney #LateBloomer #FamilyMemories #FlowerLove #GardenInspiration #PorchPlants #GenerationalWisdom #GardenStory #BloomWhereYouAre #FlowerMemories
Don’t stop here—peek at the rest of our Sidetracked Sister shenanigans at https://www.linktr.ee/@SidetrackedSanity
