Floriferous Novembers of the high desert...
Some of the best memories ever.
The marigolds are plentiful, fluffy in orange and yellow.
The smaller French marigolds are from seeds my mom gave me over 15 years ago.
I keep collecting seeds from my own plants and replanting every year.
But mostly they self seed, which is a sort of garden magic all of its own, isn't it?
Every day that I am in the garden a hummingbird flies around me.
Sits in the lemon tree and chatters away, then swoops down to all the zinnias.
He is so hard to capture, but every once in a while luck is on my side.
I am so happy that my flowers feed the endless bees, hummingbirds and even the naughty yellow belly finches, who gobble up zinnia petals, leaves and seeds at the speed of light.
I think the reason November flowers are so spectacular is that the plants have been growing all summer, to huge heights.
And then the flowers on top of all the lush summer growth, returning when they know the heat will not scorch them, is quite a sight.
And so, after I lost track wandering around today, I filled my little cabinet shrine that you have seen over the years with my fresh flowers.
When I opened the door I shed a little tear for all the memories held by the dried flowers inside.
Flowers from my country garden, dear to my heart.
Pictures of grandfathers and a dog <3
Hearts in a dish, memories so vast.
I hope next summer my country garden will be bursting with flowers once again.
This year I am grateful for my new quarantine garden.
Born of seeds and flowers ordered by mail.
Gratitude is so important for reminding you that everything is ok.
And with flowers to collect...
Well, how can one not be utterly grateful?
I filled my cabinet with all new flowers, piling them right on top of the old flowers.
I wonder what I will think or feel when I open up my little cabinet again?
I find my heart in the garden over and over.
I mend it with rose thorns and waxflower floss.
I plot and plan for what is to come.
Napa cabbage, broccoli, violets, citrus fruits - are all happening now.
Gifts of the winter garden you see.
Nature goes on -
The bees buzz around all day, cheeky birds steal flower seeds.
Pumpkin vines still twist up trees in November.
Matty and Miles sit, watching, then plunk onto their sides in a deep sleep.
Drunk by the sun rays.
Today is Dia de los Muertos.
I spent most of the day in the garden, remembering everyone.
When I used to walk into my grandparent's house I'd see my grandpa in his regular chair and I'd say...
Hiiiiii grandpaaaaaaa!
And, he'd say, hiiii grandmaaaaa!
It was really funny.
Then he'd say....
Eh Vanessa, I have something to show you...
And it would be some old door he saved for me, or some old typewriter.
He was kind of an ogre, but he was always nice to me.
I'll always remember him as the guy who drank the worm at the bottom of the tequila bottle...
Who sobbed when I celebrated joyously when he got his new knees.
He would show me all the exercises he would do while seated in his chair -
And then he'd ask me to order him this or that from the mail order catalog.
He loved to eat, he loved to grocery shop.
He'd tell you exactly how you had to eat your food for max enjoyment.
Like, how to get the perfect bite of Menudo with chili pepper and lime and cilantro and onions.
Often people say I'm just as annoying as he was.
Micro managing the perfect bite :-)
His voice is alive in my memory forever...
And I can hear him calling me grandma crystal clear.
Funny, happy, tearful memories I didn't even intend to share.
But that is what Dia de los Muertos is all about.
Remembering those who have gone before you.
Like Baby throwing herself on her back the minute she'd see you coming just to get a little belly rub.
I always have wished that I had rubbed her every single time she did that.
And so, I never ever ever have missed a hug or belly rub with Matty and Miles.
The things you learn from love.
Thanks for reading.
<3 <3 <3
See you soon.
Love, Vanessa
