Lavender

Being a daughter of a gardener was not a great thrill for me.

My father never shared his love or secrets of gardening so I never got the point of his desire of doing it.

I know he worked intensely hard and lived for what he did.

I used to love how he smelled after a long day of mowing grass and playing in the dirt.

He never earned much, just enough to scrap by really.

At a young age I couldn't understand why he didn't strive for more.

I have come to realize he had all he needed.

I have grown to realize this feeling was more about him then his job per say.

It wasn't enviable, as a lonely youth filled with angst, when asked "and what does your father do?" to say a gardener.

I would avoid the subject altogether if I could.

I never had much respect for him in this regard but I now know that stems from many other things.

Because of all that I never really gave much thought to gardening as I grew up.

I actually stayed quite clear of it for many years.

But it called me, it called loudly as the years passed, and as I learned more I craved for more.

Now that I am in my mid 30's and have acquired many life lessons and skills I am proud to be a gardener, proud to learn and teach, eat and love every bit of it.

Sadly it wasn't until today that I even thought about my father as a gardener and all those feelings I once had.

It wasn't until I gathered a bunch of lavender sprigs and placed them in a vase to adorn the dining room table, did I even remember any of it.

The smell of it transported me into memories I had chosen to forget.

My father has been long gone from my life for years, but today I had a connection with him, one I have never had before.

I think I understand why he was a gardener, hands in the dirt, the one with the earth sort of feeling one gets while in the garden is a recspit from the world.

A garden is a reflection of ones self as you pour hours of labour and love into it and it rewards you with a bounty of goodness to eat and share.

It is a sensory heaven for sight, touch ,taste and smell.

One can contemplate many things in a garden and today I thought about a man I once knew, a man who used to be my father, a man I no longer know.

Ironically it is my garden that has brought me closer to him in a small way and comfortable to say good bye and to reconcile my youthful disdain for him.

All this from a bunch of freshly picked lavender tells me that herbs and the earth really can help one to heal.