I like the idea of a cutting garden. It feels very Victorian, as I envision myself with a parasol and a full skirt and petticoat, scissors in hand as I glide across dewy grass. I imagine gathering fragrant blooms for the antique vase that sits on the Chippendale table at the base of the grand staircase.
Of course, I don’t have a parasol or petticoats. I cut flowers in shorts and turquoise flip flops. My house doesn’t feature a grand staircase either…or a Chippendale table.
I do, however, own an antique vase. It was my mother-in-law’s, and it makes me happy to fill it with vibrant flowers from my garden – scarlet bee balm, spiky Echinacea, wispy Veronica, sunny coreopsis. I don’t remember ever seeing this particular vase filled with flowers in her own house – I found it pushed toward the back of the upstairs hallway closet when I was filling bags for the Goodwill after she died. But it’s enough to know that it was hers.
I cut flowers in the early morning, before the sun sears hot and the blooms droop. I slide the kitchen shears from the butcher block, slip on my flip flops and head out the back door into the sultry, moist morning.
Do you own anything that reminds you of someone you love?
Welcome to Graceful Summer, a new link-up community here on Fridays through the end of August. We're sharing stories about the smaller, quieter moments of summer - will you share yours, too?
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