As a Southern woman there has always been
this expectation that I would grow a garden, after all that is what Southern
woman do right? Ok, so perhaps that expectation is in my own mind. Maybe it comes from my memories of seeing my
Grandma Phillips working in her garden well past her 80th birthday. Maybe, it comes from my recollections of
eating the wonderful dishes my Mammy would make from the bounty she would
harvest seemingly year round. They
always looked so happy in their gardens, digging and pulling weeds, and I want
that for myself.
Despite my outward appearance of being a
very busy woman, I am craving a hobby.
Honestly, I have a couple different hobbies that I cycle through during
my year, but this one, in my mind at least, would benefit my family, our
health, and my mental wellbeing. My kids
are getting older and therefor needing less of my constant attention. My youngest will even be starting school
soon, as a matter of fact he will be starting school the same year as 2 start
their first year of high school and 2 starting their last year of high school. I need something to fill the extra time, I
need a garden.
I want to be creative, to design paths, to
plan beds, to cultivate something, to watch it sprout, grow, and bloom. More importantly I need a place to think, and
to not think, a place that is mine, somewhere I belong. I might be asking too much from a simple plot
of earth and a few seeds, we will see.
