My grandmother loved spring.
She loved all times of the year and all types of weather, but there was a special energy that she reserved for the change from sleep to wakefulness in the world around us.
As a small child, she would take me out in her garden and point out the different plants and flowers, each with their own name and story.
Pansies were a particular favourite.
She would point out their adorably grumpy faces, glaring up at us with such earnestness that it was impossible not to laugh.
When I couldn’t see what she was talking about, she would take my fingers and use them to trace the shapes of our shared imagination-
Of our shared love.
Today is her memorial.
I have cried enough in her honour.
Today, I want to celebrate her boundless joy and generosity.
I want to remember wrinkled hands over small smooth ones, guiding me to trace the love present in the smallest petals.
This week of the Darling Buds brought to you by nostalgia, Victorian flower meanings, and the letter “Y.” As in, “No, there’s no real reason ‘Y’.”
If you would like to see more joy in action, I have also written a fantasy novel, The Guests of Honor. It is available here.