My mother's house has sold and this means making the last push to get everything out of it. After school yesterday I went to the house with friend and we moved some furniture out to use in her beach house. While I was there I dug some lilies out of Mom's garden to take home and replant.
I took all that would fill a big bucket, since I was taking not only what I needed, but some for my brother, Glenn, as well.
These lilies have "been in the family" for several generations. As I replanted them in my garden I tried to remember the stories my father had told about the flowers. I think they had been taken from one part of the country to another three generations ago when my great-great grandmother, Catherine Wheeler, had married into the Spencer family and resettled. But honestly, I'm not sure that 's right and I don't quite know why they were so special to our family.
That made me think about all the stories I hadn't paid attention to-- or maybe even never heard-- that were associated with some of the things I've inherited both from my mother and Ben's mother. Right now I'm wearing a ring from my mother that I think was an anniversary ring, but I'm not sure. Upstairs there is a rug that I think was made by my grandmother, but I'm not sure. I guess one could argue that in the end the details don't matter so much; the important thing is that there's some object that reminds you that you are part of a human chain that winds through time. Still, there are some family stories that I wish I'd paid more attention to.
Wwith any luck, come this summer, I'll have a pretty display of Wheeler lilies to remind me that I'm one link in a continuum of families.
We had an amazing rescue last night at the pond. Paul and I were relaxing out there, soaking up the last rays of sunlight before today's promised rainstorms, chatting and watching for frogs and fish. Watching the pollen dropping from the big maple trees reminded me to clean out the skimmer since it traps the pollen that falls into the water. I pulled out the skimmer, looked inside, said to Paul, "Well, there's no fish in here, anyway," and was about to dump it in the yard when Paul cried out, "There's Goldie!" Sure enough, he'd spotted the gold Koi we'd named Goldie in the skimmer.
My not seeing Goldie wasn't a matter of not paying attention, but just not seeing as well as Paul's young eyes in the twilight. I suspect I would have spotted the little fish as I dumped the skimmer
In any case, he/she was still alive and seemed mighty happy to be put back in the pond.