"That is all very well, little Alice," said her grandfather, "but there is a third thing you must do." "What is that?" asked Alice. "You must do something to make the world more beautiful," said her grandfather.Miss Rumphius, Barbara Cooney
My mother is a gardener. From spring through fall, you can find her in her long pants, long sleeved shirt, and floppy straw hat, working in her garden. Eclectic and unpredictable, the garden winds and turns on a rocky, hilly, weedy piece of land that is difficult to manage. If the land itself did not present enough obstacles, there are the deer, chipmunks, and other wildlife to contend with. Plus, an in-ground sprinkler system is out of the question, and so my mother has devised a precisely choreographed sequence of manual lawn sprinklers for the hot summer days. Few people would have tackled this troublesome tract of land -- it is not a lush spot that calls out "garden me." And yet, under my mother's persevering hand and indomitable will, the land has yielded beautiful and fragrant flowers. People come to see this garden and marvel at how she has tamed the land, and created beauty in an unexpected place.
The garden says a lot about who my mother is, and the things she has taught me. She has always been determined and independent, marching to the beat of her own drum. Although she came of age and married in the 1950s, she was never content to "just" stay home. By the time I was 16, she had finished her dissertation and obtained her Ph.D., specializing in diagnosing and treating dyslexia long before it became known as a common learning disability. But when I look back on my childhood, what I remember most is her dedication to and love of the arts. I remember coming home to find her on her knees in the living room, acting out the death of Madame Butterfly. Unlike most children growing up in Brooklyn in the 1960s, I was as familiar with operas like La Traviata and Aida, and ballets like Giselle and Swan Lake, as I was with traditional children's fairy tales. While my friend's parents listened to Frank Sinatra and Tony Bennett, I grew up listening to Mahler and Beethoven.
Once she retired from teaching, my mom's devotion to all things beautiful bloomed fully. She was able to actively pursue the Italian language and cooking classes she loved so much, and volunteer at the New York City Opera and Brooklyn Botanical Gardens. She has studied flower arranging -- making beautiful works of art out of the flowers she so dutifully tends. And she has added to her garden. Always one to notice and pay attention to an interesting view or a beautiful sunset, she has instilled in me the importance of pausing to see the beauty in the world around me. She has taught me that "if you look the right way, you can see that the whole world is a garden." The Secret Garden
Thanks Mom.
The garden says a lot about who my mother is, and the things she has taught me. She has always been determined and independent, marching to the beat of her own drum. Although she came of age and married in the 1950s, she was never content to "just" stay home. By the time I was 16, she had finished her dissertation and obtained her Ph.D., specializing in diagnosing and treating dyslexia long before it became known as a common learning disability. But when I look back on my childhood, what I remember most is her dedication to and love of the arts. I remember coming home to find her on her knees in the living room, acting out the death of Madame Butterfly. Unlike most children growing up in Brooklyn in the 1960s, I was as familiar with operas like La Traviata and Aida, and ballets like Giselle and Swan Lake, as I was with traditional children's fairy tales. While my friend's parents listened to Frank Sinatra and Tony Bennett, I grew up listening to Mahler and Beethoven.
Once she retired from teaching, my mom's devotion to all things beautiful bloomed fully. She was able to actively pursue the Italian language and cooking classes she loved so much, and volunteer at the New York City Opera and Brooklyn Botanical Gardens. She has studied flower arranging -- making beautiful works of art out of the flowers she so dutifully tends. And she has added to her garden. Always one to notice and pay attention to an interesting view or a beautiful sunset, she has instilled in me the importance of pausing to see the beauty in the world around me. She has taught me that "if you look the right way, you can see that the whole world is a garden." The Secret Garden
Thanks Mom.
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