March 24: These vibrantly colored Gazanias are in full bloom right now. They line the walkway to my door inviting all who approach to smile. I can’t sneak by. It doesn’t matter how pre-occupied I am, the flowers just beg to be noticed.
Gazanias symbolize richness. I didn’t know this when I bought them; I was simply drawn to their hardiness and color. This Gazania whispered to me on my return from the dry cleaners, “write about me”, which got me thinking about next month’s book club book titled the Language of Flowers and the glossary of flowers and their meaning in the back. So I looked it up. I’m not surprised. How could it be anything else. The Gazanias were planted by my dearly departed friend. They remind me of him and of the richness of our friendship.
I feel pretty special. Its not every day you find a friend who wants to work in your yard. Even though it was years ago I’m still grateful. Stress and a job change prompted him to take some time off. He loved to be outdoors on a sunny day, loved to garden, and thought these things would restore his health. I have a huge yard and no gardener. This is another story where I can’t quite recall whose idea it was, but somehow, probably over drinks one evening, it was decided that our yard would be his therapy. Several days a week for almost a year he came over and worked on our yard – pruning, planting, weeding, watering and raking. Everything except mowing the lawn which is my husband’s meditation pratice and the rose garden and atrium which are my personal gardens.
Parts of our yard were redesigned with his help. Someone came out to advise me on plant choices, I bought the plants, and my friend planted them. He weeded and then covered all the areas in weed cloth and bark. He’d find out which nursery or hardware store had sale on bark that week and drive up in his tiny red Miata with the top down and bags of bark in the passenger seat. Even today as I spruce up the yard for his upcoming Celebration of Life, I see how precise he was in this undertaking.
I worked from home and would take breaks to bring him ice water. We’d chat a few minutes about the yard work, maybe the next group trip, the possibility of going back to work. Grandkids started arriving and the conversation grew to include family and the unexpected joys of being a grandpa.
And then it was over. He was in good health. The yard looked amazing. The distraction of grandkids and other interests was too great. He quietly stopped coming.
I’ve been working in the yard these past few weeks wanting to make it nice for his Celebration. His presence is everywhere. In the Lime tree he moved across the yard for better sun, the Nandinas he planted along our fence for coverage, the weed cloth the raccoons shred digging for worms. But most especially I’m reminded of him when the Gazanias bloom.
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