My introduction to gardening was by my mother’s side as we visited her friends who would take us to see their gardens. At that time, although most of the country had recovered from the great depression, the small villages in the mountains of northern Vermont had not. Plants, cuttings, slips, and seeds were shared and the history of each flower and the giver would be re-told as we walked through the gardens. From this early experience, I learned that gardens united the women and gave them faith that beauty would follow the harsh winter days.
Over the years, I kept faith with those courageous women and planted flowers wherever my husband and I moved. We did not always agree on how the flowers should be planted. I dreamed of English style borders—riotous curving beds brimming with different types of flowers whose colors would blend and tempt the eye. My husband, who had spent his early childhood in Western Turkey where roses flourish, believed that the flower beds should be mathematically laid out and that roses were the flower of choice. According to him, roses should only be watered with collected rain water late in the afternoon after it had absorbed the ‘goodness of the sun.’ We compromised and now I have different kinds of flowers planted in carefully laid out beds.
Gardener/writer Eris Field has been gardening all her life in niches, borders, and formal gardens. Her favorite thing about gardening is watching for the first flowers to emerge after a long winter of snow. When she is not gardening, she’s writing heart-warming contemporary, international romances. You can learn more about her at http://erisfield.com