My sweet grandmother.
My grandmother loved gardening. She repeatedly asked me if I was interested in gardening, what I was planting, and how the plants were doing. We took many tours through her garden, walking arm in arm. She would pause, smile sweetly, and point to some plant that flourished under her care.
Grandma would look at me with a gentle smile and slowly, with a sweet Southern drawl say, “Every Southern woman has to have a garden.”
Back at home, I tried to make it happen. I thought that if a Southern woman has to have a garden, then I should give it a shot. My mom’s good at it. Maybe the green thumb could be inherited?
Nope.
I became an expert at killing plants. They seemed happy for a while, and then they found a way to die. I could never figure out what I’d done wrong. I even killed the most resilient plants — the ones that come with tags advertising saying how easy it is to care for them. Those tags are total B.S.
Things are somewhat different now.
I find myself wanting a garden so badly. I think about it all the time. Mom and I talk about plants, and I ask her questions about them. Gardening has changed from something I feel like I should know, into something I deeply desire.
Camellias always make me think of Grandma. They were scattered throughout her garden. The hand in the photo belongs to my uncle.
Thoughts about gardening run through my mind, as if they come from someone else. Where’s the sunlight? How’s the soil? What plants would look nice here? How much time could I spend digging in the dirt this weekend? What could I plant that could be used when cooking?
It’s amazing how things change over time, including your own tastes and interests. How did I go from killing every plant I own, to planning a garden that will thrive? My motivations have changed and I’ve started educating myself, so I’m sure that has something to do with it.
Perhaps it’s an expression of grief, too. I miss my gramdma so much right now. It hurts.
Maybe planning a garden is a way to work through dealing with my grandmother’s death. Maybe it’s a way to connect with my mother right now. Maybe it’s a way to live a more sustainable life — to finally start composting and use that to plant something that we can consume. Maybe it’s a way to deal with the changes and stresses in my life right now. Who knows…
What I do know is this: I can’t wait to get my hands dirty with a new project. Literally.
Creativity takes many forms. Filmmaking is usually the creative outlet I write about here, but every now and then I explore something different. Doing so strengthens my vision as a filmmaker, as I seek an understanding of the world and the people in it.