Golden Oldies

Perhaps my favorite thing about gardening is the opportunity it provides to connect the present with the past.  Few tactile things so effortlessly bridge day-to-day discoveries with memories, providing that vital link that adds dimension to our gardening experiences.  Who among us, hasn't smiled (albeit wistfully) when the rose bush our grandmother planted sends out it's first fragrant blossoms of the season?  Or savored the taste of an heirloom tomato planted from stock that's been in the family for generations?

When I admire the Japanese maple in my backyard, my mind invariably turns back the years, landing me in that first summer I lived in my home, and noticed the little sapling that was only as tall as the day lilies surrounding it.  Now it towers over the nearby stellata magnolia, and had surpassed the Cornus kousa dogwood which once dwarfed it.  Like my children, it has undergone the natural process of development, and all the growing pains of being trampled under toddler feet, climbed by neighborhood natives (cats, squirrels--even a raccoon), and more than one unfortunate pruning incident.  And, like my kids, it has become gracefully mature because of--and in spite of--my efforts and wishes.

This live link I have with the past is not unique.  It's all around us.  While spending the weekend at our summer place, I noticed something so wonderful in my neighbor's front yard, that I had to whip out my camera and capture the magic: a profusion of golden blossoms trailing along a stone wall.  The light of the late-afternoon sun cast a honeyed hue that intensified the golden effect of the plant, Aurinia saxatilis, commonly known as Basket of Gold, and turned this plant, with nondescript foliage that

is easily overlooked when not in bloom, into a shining example of nature's splendor.

When I asked my neighbor about it, he smiled and told me his mother planted it many years ago.  I recalled his mother, who has since passed on: how she loved animals and plants.  I glanced back at her magnificent handiwork and thought how fortunate it was to have a little bit of her still with us.  Nature provides for us this universal comfort, this reminder that those we loved and lost are not only still in our hearts, but in our world today--in the plants they tenderly coaxed from the soil of our shared past.