An ongoing labor of love, creating sacred space
In 1990, while I was living in my little house in Aurora, a box arrived in the mail. Oh! A present from my Mother! I wonder what it is?
I opened the box to find a mess of tangled, completely dried out roots, that looked dead. what in the world? She’s crazy! She’s no doubt killed whatever this poor flower used to be. I called her up on the phone: “Mom, I got your present” . . . . long exhale.
“Oh great!” she says. “Now don’t worry, I know they look dead.”
“They ARE dead Mom.”
“Just divide the roots into equal piles and plant them in the ground, about 4″ down. doesn’t matter what direction, just horizontally not vertically. They need lots of sun and water to get going.”
“No Mom, they’re dead.”
“No they’re not, trust me, just plant them.”
So I did as she said, cause she has been gardening longer than me after all, and she’s my Mom. Then Lo and behold! the angel came down from the heavens and threw golden yellow all around my yard! They grew. And they grew, and then I divided them, and they grew some more, and over the 15 years I lived in that house, I divided them several times and gave away cuttings to everyone I could convince to take some.
OF course, I divided them one last time and took them with me to our new house in Brighton and spread them around everywhere. They are truly a weed – yet they are truly beautiful. They are the last thing blooming in the garden well into the fall, such a joy!