We are not alone

In my garden I am not alone….

My Mother is in my garden….. poignant reminder in a quirky pot I once bought her. She candidly confessed to me when packing up, years later, that she thought it a bit odd. But she kept it for 23 years anyway,  because I gave it to her.

My Mother is in my garden …..in the cutting that I took from a  frangipanni that grew in her front garden.

My Mum is in my garden … in the memorial lemon tree I planted,  because she was good at citrus trees. I think the strands of grey hair I took from her hairbrush are helping it along.

My Daughter is  in my Garden….Her favourite plant, Holmskoldia growing. Full of surprises, purple and blue delicate flowers in a beautiful unconventional mix like a Philip Treacy concoction, on a tough unstoppable plant.

My daughter’s in my garden …  in the little hand-made Grecian pot, trailing German ivy, that she made for me  at school.

Natasha’s there in my garden…. her now unused scratching post allows a hedera ivy to climb. Natasha’s  there in the dwarf Mulberry tree, in memory of the first tree she may have noticed, when arriving as a kitten at her new home 18 years ago.

My Grandmothers, Alice and Doreen, are in my garden, in the love for gardening they gave me. In the seasonal snake beans I grow.  And the Chinese gooseberry bushes and passion-fruit.

My Aunty Marge is in my garden… Hoya cuttings from my recent visit and seeds from cute mystery plant.

My friend Joanne is in my garden…unusual lilies she gave me, and amazing red hoya from Northern Qld.

Jamie is in my garden…his  fabulous garden mirror encircled by concoctions of found wood in bird and snake likenesses.

My future love is in my garden…  in the Twining honeysuckle vine, symbolic of  enduring friendship and love.

Margi’s in my garden….jasmine sweetly twirling its way upwards.

Lyn is there too…her unusual exotic house warming plant.

My Father’s in my garden…flowers arranged in the Chinese vase brought back from afar so many years ago…

There’s Rosemary, in my garden. Rosemary for remembrance and memory.

We are not alone in our gardens. All our friends and loved ones are with us there.

Our garden history is there.

All our hopes and dreams are expressed in our garden.

Who’s in your garden with you?

What dreams are there?