I know it is spring, but it is still cold outside. However, my forsythia bush has turned into a small tree of blooming sunshine, my daphanie smells like the best Paris perfume and my Lily-of-the Valley are shooting up tall green sprouts that will soon have a million sweet little flowers bowing their heads in praise of Springtime. How can anyone be gloomy with such a bounty of beauty?
When I was a child my grandfather had a soft-green, lacy bush and when we would pass it he would always tell me to put the leaves between my fingers and then smell my fingers. It had the greatest smell, one I can't describe. He called the plant "The Old Man." I have no idea what its Latin name is.
When I left my hometown, I took a start from the bush and we planted it in our first house in Millington, Tenn. When my husband got transfered, we again took it with us, one place after another. At last we brought it to Vancouver where we planted it again. When my husband died and I moved I finally brought the plant to it's final resting place and planted it at the corner of my house. It grew into quite a large bush and every time I passed it I always stopped and rubbed the leaf, still the great scent I remembered from my childhood.
Because it was a plant strange to this part of the country, the gardner came along and pulled, what he thought was a big weed into the garbage. For the moment I had the urge to kill. To myself I called him a few un-Christian names. Of course, the deed was done so I just have to forget about it. But, when spring comes around and I check my garden, I miss The Old Man.
Be Kind to Everyone
Your first paragraph sounds like a poem! Beautiful imagery. I'm sorry about your plant. For years, I tried to grow cuttings from an heirloom plant that had been in my family for years. One relative would pass cuttings on to another, and everyone had a big planter of the lovely moss. I would bring a little to Florida and try to grow it, but it never thrived. I think it was too hot here. I finally gave up.
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