Gardening

above:

Grandma Ethel and Bryan (my younger brother)

probably taken in the summer of 1985

below:

Grandpa Whitey and Grandma Ethel

Circleville, Utah (birth place of many outlaws, most notably Butch Cassidy)

I planted some peas today.

I LOVE fresh peas from the garden.

I've never really had great luck with planting peas, but I am optimistic this time.

Planting peas reminds me of my Dalton Grandparents.

Their garden was huge (at least it seemed to me.)

I would sneak out to the garden and eat peas until I couldn't eat any more.

If there was enough left when I was done, Grandma would make peas and potatoes--yum, my favorite.

Another favorite memory was Grandpa taking a little plastic bucket out to the garden and picking radishes and turnips. I have planted both this year as well. Grandpa would pick the turnips and radishes, and pull up a lawn chair under a big shade tree and turn on the hose to wash the fresh veggies. Cut the tops off, and we would sit and eat them all afternoon.

In the top picture on the bottom left hand corner is one of Grandma's flowering cabbage plants. How did she grow those babies? I still think she used magic manure.

I loved the rock planter that she is standing next to. It was always filled every year with red petunias. I seem to remember that my mom would take the petunias down to her every spring around Mother's Day.

(And I probably should not tell you that the orange/red rocks that you can see in these photos may very well have come from Bryce Canyon National Park, since it is slightly against the law to take anything out of a national park.)

In the bottom picture on the left side you can see the little pink poppy blossoms that still remind me of Circleville.

As I was weeding this afternoon I noticed that there are hundreds of those poppy plants growing in my garden (they are about 2 to 3 inches high). I can't wait to see them bloom.

I don't know why I am so sentimental when I garden. Maybe it's just the time of the year.

The photo above is a forsythia bush. They are blooming yellow right now just like this one.

In 1986 my Grandma lived at our home for a few months while she was sick just before she died. I was 16 years old. I just remember when she got really sick, she sat on the couch near the window and watched the blossoming forsythia bush just before she died. She died on April 21. So, every year when spring comes I look forward to the forsythia bushes to bloom because they remind me of my Grandma. I guess I could dig a little deeper and compare it to the rebirth of spring and how it compares to the Resurrection and that we will all live again just like the blossoming forsythia bush blooms again each spring. I will see my Grandma again.