from garden to drawer
My grandma, or granny as I called her, made me lavender bags when I was growing up—beautiful cotton sachets tied with ribbon or lace and filled with lavender harvested from her garden. I used to tuck them in my clothes drawers and the fragrance would remind me of her in the morning.
Garden is one of the British English words I cling to steadfastly. I’ve even rubbed off on my all-American granddaughter who loves to play in my ‘garden’, even though I conceded the vegetable patch to the deer a few years ago. For me, the word “yard” is rather barren, with connotations of concrete from a shipyard or metal from a junk yard. It doesn’t capture the romance, the feeling of peace that comes over me when I watch bees gathering, butterflies exalting, flowers exuding full color.
My garden falls short of the true English haven my mum creates year after year, but it brings me joy, it gives me a sense of renewal and rejuvenation. I love to unwind with my camera, and explore the flower beds or the woods for images and patterns that only nature has the imagination to create. An instant slow-down moment. It’s the details that amaze me the most, the secrets you can’t know unless you stop for a closer look.
I planted lavender a few years ago. It’s given me a beautiful crop already, with a second about ready to pick. Soon, it will be dry and I’ll find some pretty cotton to make lavender bags. I think I’ll do them in my granddaughter’s favorite color, maybe she’ll tuck some away in her clothes drawers like I did.