I don't regret my mother's passing; she was in so much discomfort at the end that it would have been selfish to want her to stay longer. And she made it clear to her children, "Don't be angry if I leave now, I am very tired."
I regret very much not telling her enough just how central a part of my life she was, and continues to be. Nearly all my woolens have been knitted by her. And of those, there are two that are the definition of winter. Winter begins when I pull them out of the bag in which they have been carefully stored and it ends when I wash them, sun them, and pack them away for the next seven months. And all through the cold months, they keep me feeling warm and loved.
The first is a wheat-coloured cardigan, warm and well-fitting and in a lovely colour. My knitting friends have praised it for the accuracy of its neckline (my friends give very precise compliments) but she valued it so lightly that when Madhu chewed a hole in it, Amma repaired the sweater with purple thread. Nevertheless, I wear it all day.
And then there is the bedjacket. Knowing my love for old Hollywood, Amma made this for me from a 1930s pattern. It is lacy, fluffy and exactly the sort of thing Hedy Lamarr might have worn to bed (if she had a mother who knitted). It's only after taking the photos that I realised that the camera was in black and white mode, but I kept it that way- it seems fitting.
I always told her when I wore them; but I don't think she realised just how much all the things she gave me or taught me shaped my life. I wish I had spoken my appreciation more.
And that brings me to the garden. My garden is shaped by the many many gifts friends have given me. And I tell them often, but I have now realised that it is never often enough.
So here we go
1. Ganesh: At the four corners of our house are four honeysuckle creepers. And they give us more joy than we ever thought possible. All started from cuttings from Ganesh's house.
Besides this, he has given me cuttings of his hydrangeas, and his night jasmine.
2. Lakshmiji: When I first moved in, I praised her garden and lamented that I have a garden but nothing to fill it with. She gave me plastic shopping bags full of vinca, mexican sage, goldenrod, iris, and phlox. "These will take over your garden quickly", she said. "Don't complain when you get tired of them!" I have not reached that point yet.
3. Deepa: The first friend I made when I came here, and still the closest. It is she who gave me her lavender and her succulents, and a glorious salmon-pink rose.
4. Ann: When I grow up, I want to be her. And the many many plants she has given me remind me of that. Here are my star jasmine and my magnolia, just to name two.
5. Michael: When we visited him in Nagaland, Michael noticed me helping myself to the grape tomatoes that grew so abundantly in his village. The day we left, he gave me a strip of cloth on which he had saved some seeds. Four years later, the Naga tomatoes are going strong and have become the tomato of choice for several homes in our village. Here they are, ripening well into winter.
6. Beth: I cannot grow basil. I don't know what it is I do, but my seeds rarely germinate. The few times they do, they bolt immediately. Beth however is our resident winter gardening genius. Ever since she learnt of my basil woes she has been supplying me with a couple of plants every year. As you see, they are still chugging along.
So many friends, so much love. Mian and I are fortunate. And I mean to tell my friends so. Much more often.
Linking this to Six-on-Saturday on The Propagator's blog. Another source of wonderful friends, support, and appreciation.
I regret very much not telling her enough just how central a part of my life she was, and continues to be. Nearly all my woolens have been knitted by her. And of those, there are two that are the definition of winter. Winter begins when I pull them out of the bag in which they have been carefully stored and it ends when I wash them, sun them, and pack them away for the next seven months. And all through the cold months, they keep me feeling warm and loved.
The first is a wheat-coloured cardigan, warm and well-fitting and in a lovely colour. My knitting friends have praised it for the accuracy of its neckline (my friends give very precise compliments) but she valued it so lightly that when Madhu chewed a hole in it, Amma repaired the sweater with purple thread. Nevertheless, I wear it all day.
And that brings me to the garden. My garden is shaped by the many many gifts friends have given me. And I tell them often, but I have now realised that it is never often enough.
So here we go
1. Ganesh: At the four corners of our house are four honeysuckle creepers. And they give us more joy than we ever thought possible. All started from cuttings from Ganesh's house.
2. Lakshmiji: When I first moved in, I praised her garden and lamented that I have a garden but nothing to fill it with. She gave me plastic shopping bags full of vinca, mexican sage, goldenrod, iris, and phlox. "These will take over your garden quickly", she said. "Don't complain when you get tired of them!" I have not reached that point yet.
3. Deepa: The first friend I made when I came here, and still the closest. It is she who gave me her lavender and her succulents, and a glorious salmon-pink rose.
5. Michael: When we visited him in Nagaland, Michael noticed me helping myself to the grape tomatoes that grew so abundantly in his village. The day we left, he gave me a strip of cloth on which he had saved some seeds. Four years later, the Naga tomatoes are going strong and have become the tomato of choice for several homes in our village. Here they are, ripening well into winter.
So many friends, so much love. Mian and I are fortunate. And I mean to tell my friends so. Much more often.
Linking this to Six-on-Saturday on The Propagator's blog. Another source of wonderful friends, support, and appreciation.
7 comments:
What a lovely theme. Gardening should be a sharing experience.
What a good idea to show us 6 things from friends. I'm sure I would not have 6 plants if I were like you. I knew that your mother has passed and I thought of you because these moments are not easy. Friends are there for those moments and it seems that you got them and you still have them now
A lovely post. How extraordinary to be wrapped in your mother's love through her knitting. And to have your garden be a reminder of friends. You are blessed.
Such an interesting way of doing a six, by remembering friends. I enjoyed reading your six.
Thank you, all. I am truly blessed in my friends. I needed to stop at six, but my garden is full of my friends' love- whether it is plants they have given, or lessons they have taught.
Lovely thoughts in your Six, a good few idea to tell us where those plants all came from. Sorry to hear about your mother. Hope to see you again soon.
I wonder if we all could write about six plants given to us by friends - I suspect we could. All of your are lovely but I especially like that plum-coloured Magnolia.
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