Last week, I had a free day. The sun was shining, and the breeze was cool, so it was perfect to work in the yard. I needed to catch up on planting my garden this year, so I planned to work outside that day. I pulled some weeds for a while, then laid my seed packets on the ground in a somewhat organized manner and began planting. 

First, I dug a few furrows, then carefully dropped seeds into each one, interspersing some flowers among the rows of vegetables. When I got to the third furrowed area, memories of my Grandma Kirby came to mind. I usually remember her when I work in my gardens because she enjoyed beautiful plants. 

My grandma always filled her yard with endless flowerbeds and bushes full of blossoms. She had a large weeping willow in her backyard, and when we visited, she cut off the low swaying branches so we could gallop around her yard like we were riding wild horses. Grandma also had a row of apple trees with low horizontal branches, which were easy to climb. Once we reached our favorite branch, we felt like we owned the world as we looked down from our leafy perches. Grandma’s house was surrounded by paths that wove around and through the flower gardens and led to every corner of her yard. There were many places where plants and flowers grew silently under the shade of tall trees, hidden from everything, and when we stood among them, we felt magically hidden from the world.

I know I have an idealized memory of my grandma’s yard, but there was magic to be found there, and that sense of wonder still charms me to this day. I think this magic still exists in my mind because as I wandered through Grandma’s yard as a child, I built core memories that shaped what I like doing as an adult and even part of who I am today. Grandma didn’t do anything remarkable or monumental when we visited; she simply let us into her everyday life, and it was magical, and somehow, it changed me. 

As I worked in my gardens that day, and my mind circled the memories of my grandma, I suddenly had a humbling realization. You see, two of our grandchildren will spend nearly a month with us this summer. They live 800 miles away, so we don’t get to see them very often. In my mind, as I combined their upcoming visit with the memories of my Grandma Kirby, I quickly realized that it was now my turn to be the magical grandma who would add core memories to the lives of some of my grandchildren. That was an incredibly sobering thought.

Life goes by quickly. It doesn’t seem like that long ago that I was lost in the charm of my grandmother’s yard, filled with wonder and without a care. As I recall that feeling, I hope to bring even the smallest portion of curiosity and wonder into my grandchildren’s lives this summer. I hope Grandma Kirby will somehow follow us all around as we dig in the dirt and hide in the trees with our grandchildren. Then she can see that some of her magic is still with me and that I’ve shared it with another generation because that’s what grandmothers should do.