Seeds of Hope

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As autumn now slows our gardening pace here on the East Coast, I continue to dream in flowers: imaginary arches with climbing baby roses line the walkway to our front door; a pergola has wisteria and clematis gracefully climbing skyward. A four-season sunroom extends out back and wraps around the house. My mind twirls with possibilities as I imagine a new solarium enclosing the rooftop area off the master bedroom; I can smell the coffee perking and see us reading the morning newspapers with our beloved cat and the memory of her sister as alive as the eternal flowers.

In my mind, our future garden will have that exquisite blanket effect in which varying heights and textures blend smoothly together like masterful artwork. Soon, we will once again make our rounds, delighting in daily—and even hourly—changes.

Our amaryllis, which should bloom around Christmas, has just emerged with flowers trumpeting in every direction. She’s on her own clock, setting her own standard.

In every season, I go into the garden stupefied by the mysteries of life. By another miracle, I re-emerge with my joy restored. Clinging to the promise of spring even as the trees shed their leaves, I wrestle down the fact that some of life is lost but the cycle of renewal at hand.

Let the replanting of hope begin.