Another gardener shares, as summer whispers to a close

 Please welcome guest blogger Melissa Mannon, who is a kindred flower-loving soul and agreed to share reflections on what gardening means to her. Photos and text by Melissa Mannon.

I try to walk through my day with an image of my garden in my head.

It feeds my creativity. It makes me smile. It induces a state of “calm.”

My parents were gardeners. Dad maintained the landscaping, while mom grew vegetables. One of my happiest childhood memories is of throwing cherry tomatoes up into the air with my sister and catching them in my mouth. Summertime was spent barefoot in the yard – picking raspberries, watching the fish in the backyard pond, inhaling the smell of roses from the climbing bush that rain up the side of the house.

The first thing I did when I got a house of my own was to plant a perennial garden.

The first thing I did when my daughter was born was to take a photo of her among the flowers.

My house is filled with vibrant macro images of blossoms. My favorite room has large windows to gather in sunlight that feed my indoor plants. The room is green. It is my indoor garden.

Last year, I was diagnosed with cancer. As I prepared myself mentally for surgery, my counselor quickly discovered my love for my garden. She helped me create a meditation that would get my head into the garden quickly. It wasn’t very hard. It’s the place my head tries to go most of the time. I was wheeled into surgery imagining myself on my back, in the grass, in my front garden.

The garden is at the core of my being. When I am in the garden, I am at peace with everything, and so, I try to carry that image of being in a garden with me wherever I go.

Health.

Beauty.

Happiness.

Connection to something bigger than myself.