It was just about a year ago that it dawned on us that we were probably going to have to move down to Texas and take care of the sixty four acres we inherited. After trying to sell it for three years we had no other option, it needed maintenance. What I didn’t know then was that I had flowing in my veins an inheritance that was rooted in the soil. My grandfather was a farmer as the generations before him and my grandmother planted flowers on any bare patch of grass she could find.
The first inkling that I had this love of dirt inside of me was when, after throwing out zinnia seeds there were suddenly zinnias popping up out of the earth. Something was unearthed in me that day.
Today is the first day of spring and it has most certainly arrived in East Texas. My pear trees are blooming and my dad tells me that with the amount of blossoms on each I will have an abundant crop. I will harvest those pears and make some pear preserves as my grandmother used to make. And, I will spread those preserves on biscuits using my grandfather’s recipe. He made the best biscuits ever.
I thought about my grandmother today and her love of planting flowers. I looked out over the many acres out there at my disposal. A blank slate so to speak. I thought about that first packet of zinnia seed I threw in the ground last September and I had an idea flicker through my mind. What if I planted rows and rows of zinnias out there with my garden. I pictured it something like this:
Zinnias are supposedly easy to grow. Growing zinnias is something I can do with part of this sixty-four acres. A blank slate painted beautiful with colorful zinnias.
I will fill blue mason jars with zinnias and they will adorn my tables. They will adorn the tables of my friends, too. The idea is growing on me and I like it more and more.
Yes, I like this idea and I think it would have made my grandmother smile.