White Picket Fences

Helping Daddy - Age 3 or 4

Recently, looking out my picture window, a child-like excitement came over me as two butterflies happily entertained me from the other side. Seeing these colorful winged insects bring a remembrance of joyful
times, peaceful times, a little girl's dream - butterflies, hummingbirds, fuzzy black bumble bees.  Flower gardens grow in my black and white memories of SE Portland more than 50 years ago.  Mom is engaged with another neighbor-mom over the white picket fence.  And, the butterflies softly bouncing from pedal to pedal somehow give me a giggly feeling.

Despite these flighty images, I've learned over the years I lack the skill to grow flower gardens - or any garden for that matter.  In my imagination I picture a lush green lawn filled with flower gardens covered with butterflies and hummingbirds. In the 23 summers in our home,  only a handful of hummingbirds have visited us, and these a product from the neighbor's gardening efforts!

So, in this wintry month, the sun has been generous and we are already seeing the beginnings of spring poking through what mossy beds we do have.  Will the dahlias come up again, or will they need to be replanted?  Should we attempt raised beds for a vegetable offering?  What about the lawn and the raspberries already in need of attention?

But, as I consider all this - the truth is, what really is my garden: voices of children and playful barking of a black lab.  My white-picket-memories fast forward to shadows of a swing set and backyard barbecued hamburgers.  Fading echos of children squealing and laughing as they run through the circling lawn sprinkler in summer, or snowball fights on the front lawn during one of our few white winters.  I now giggle over new memories of other colorful images: my little ones, now adults, living new lives, making even newer memories.

Hummingbirds?  Butterflies?  A new project is in the works.  A new garden is being prepared.  I can't wait to see how the colors come together.