I remember walking with my friends to a huge garden at the end of our street. The owner asked us if we wanted to see the plants. She introduced us to each one telling us the name. I remember the sweet scent of purple lilacs and towering hollyhocks in shades of pink. It was a paradise of beautiful textures and captivating flowers. I knew then that when I grew up I too would have a garden filled with beautiful flowers.

Later on in life I became an elementary teacher. My favorite subjects to teach were reading, writing and science. Books focused on plants led to class projects on plants. In Spring we planted seeds in gallon milk jugs, eventually the window sills held milk cartons with tiny plants emerging, and a holiday gift of a paper- white bulb in a decorated container was for mom, sent home with directions explaining how to nurture it into a flower.

In those days I didn’t have a garden, only containers of plants on the porch. Some years later we moved into a home that had potential for a garden: a cement patio in the backyard. I knew that if I had plants I could plant them around the patio and create a garden. My walks took me passed my neighbor’s house; I always slowed down when walking by to enjoy her sensory-rich garden. Over time we became friends. One spring she was dividing plants and asked me if I’d like some. I didn’t know anything about the plants she was digging up, but I knew I could learn.

I didn’t know enough to check how many hours of sun the area was getting, or how far apart the plants should be. I didn’t know the shapes of plants and foliage can impact design, I dug holes and put the plants in the ground.

I remember standing back admiring the garden and the excitement I felt. Now at last I had a garden of my own. My first garden.

My husband enjoying the sun on the cement patio surrounded by our new garden.