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Today I’m welcoming author Linda Bradley and her garden memories to A Writer’s Garden. Welcome, Linda!

Thanks, Catherine.

Once upon a time, my garden was my refuge. Each spring I’d plant annuals amongst the perennials. I’d anticipate the blooms of color welcoming my favorite season, summer. If I count correctly, my garden was home to eight peony bushes, six rose bushes that grew like mad, a fence line of daffodils, one bleeding heart, a patch of iris’, lilies resembling sunbursts, sweet lily of the valley, and wild geraniums. When I first moved into my Calvin house, it was the middle of winter and I had no idea what slept beneath the drifts of Michigan snow. As I look back, the scenario fittingly represents that sliver of time in my life. It was a time when uncertainty shrouded me. I wasn’t sure how life would evolve or what life had in store for me until the chill from a broken heart melted and opportunities blossomed around me.

Toiling with the Calvin garden upkeep never bogged me down. The soft pinks, vibrant yellows, sharp fuchsia, creamy purples, and crisp salmon hues were like a balanced canvas. It wasn’t a canvas I painted, but luckily inherited. This unexpected bounty brought back sweet memories of my childhood and peace. Its beauty awakened something that slept inside me.

Four years ago, I said goodbye to the lovely garden at my Calvin house. I miss the greenery, the unmistakable garden scents, and beautiful flowers, but I’m reminded of the days I’d baked in the sun while turning soil as I stroll along on my new journey accompanied by a sweet rescue dog, Maisey. She occasionally stops along the way to smell the blooms, too. The aroma of lilacs transports me back to my childhood, whereas the scent of sweet roses conjures images of laughter, rough housing, bikes on the lawn, rollerblades in the drive, and a string of boys hungry for their next snack. As Maisey’s nose twitches, my does, too.

Claude Monet said, “My garden is my most beautiful masterpiece.” Even though he lived in a different era and gardened on the opposite side of the world, the premise of sanctuary links his grandeur to mine. Each garden representative of the gardener at hand. Someday, I’ll settle down and when I do, I’ll remember the gardens from my past and the gardens I’ve passed along the way. I’ll also remember Monet’s words. While I believe he was referring to the relationship of harmonious color and balance of composition created in nature, I’ll smile knowing that joy created by something as elementary as a garden, color splashed on a canvas, or words delivering a heartfelt story, is universal.

 

About the gardener/author:

Linda’s inspiration comes from her favorite authors and life itself. Her women’s fiction with a thread of romance highlights characters that peel away outer layers of life to discover the heart of their dreams with some unexpected twists and turns along the way. Her writing integrates humor found in everyday situations, as well as touching moments that make readers connect with her characters. Linda’s books are not spicy, are pretty tame, with a little kissing. Writing does elude that characters are intimate. Linda enjoys painting scenes from the gardens in her memories and travels. You can find her at Twitter Facebook Website

Amazon Link: http://amzn.to/2bakz7T

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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