GARDEN OF MEMORIES by Mary Wienke
Plants speak to me . In my earliest memories , I am lying on the grassy slope of our front yard listening to the humming of the green quilt , speckled in white and purple , that lies beneath me . Only when I turned six , which required a doctor checkup to start kindergarten , did I discover I desperately needed glasses , and through new eyes , I learned that bees were humming around me . The bees were visiting little purple and white flowers interspersed among blades of grass . Trees had leaves . Flowers had petals . Birds had wings . The earth itself was teeming with armies of ants and other crawly creatures . A whole new world had opened up to me .
Some sixty years later , I still love to lie on the grass , close my eyes , and listen to the earth humming . In a way , it is how I ground myself . When I open my eyes , I feel a deeprooted connection with all the flora surrounding me . My garden in
PHOTOS BY MARY WIENKE
Hamburg is a long way from our yard in Florida . Growing up in Orlando , our house was built on land that was a former orange grove , and fourteen orange trees remained . In spring , brilliant white orange blossoms perfumed the whole town ( long before Disney turned Orlando into a bustling city that crowded out the orange groves ). The smell of orange blossoms evokes a sense of my home there , just as other plants here in Hamburg summon memories . Here , our garden surrounds the house . We have solid evergreens , three towering white birch trees , and a variety of smaller shrubs and trees . The evergreens remind me of the summer I spent backpacking through the Rocky Mountains . The birch trees
recall the winding road into Lake Placid , New York , where I spent a year working for the Olympic Authority . We have a large red Japanese maple that speaks to me whenever I look at it for long . It was my mother ’ s favorite tree . She would sit in the living room with her coffee looking out the window and report on the seasonal colors , but she most enjoyed the effects of Mother Nature ’ s paintbrush . Her favorite stroke was just after a light rain : dozens of water droplets would hang from each branch , and when the sun came through , she saw diamonds sparkling . I can hear her even now when the tree dazzles , in her childish joy , shouting , “ Diamonds ! Come see !” Diamonds drip from my own eyes .
Plants are often given as gifts , which I always welcome . For many years , I held an annual tea party for the AWCH Film Group . Adele Riepe , who was very active with
Currents and the Film Group for many years , once brought a “ magic hortensia .” She laughed as she said she had no idea what kind of magic the plant had , but that she was told the flowers would change color over the summer . Over the years , the magic hortensia has grown and flowered in white , pale pink , and dark rose colors . It did indeed bloom where it was planted and always reminds me of just how lovely Adele was and how she graced us with the magic of her intelligence and charm .
Helen Parusel gifted me a perennial , which she called a balloon plant ( Ballonblume ). I planted it next to the Japanese maple and was totally surprised when , the next
26 HOW YOUR GARDEN GROWS