63 of 391

Write now Article Tools

Nestled in the southeast corner of the great plains state of Kansas there sits a small town, usually unheard of, and month after month, yard of the month awards are handed out to various residents. As happy as I have been for each of my fellow small town dwellers, I admit that I desperately wanted to know what it would be like to boast a beautiful garden which spoke for itself through my very own yard of the month sign.

With determination in my heart I set to work on making the best garden I could procure. Try as I might, no matter what I seemed to do, each garden I tilled, seed I planted and cared for, they all seemed to either never sprout or wilt before my eyes. Luckily, my oldest daughter seemed to have a young talent for being what avid gardeners know as a "green thumb". Her seven year old face turned up to me smiling as she offered to help my garden grow. No longer was this set to be my garden, my goal. This was turning into a family project and therefore I just knew that we wouldn't fail.

By the sweat on our brows, and the work of our hands, we steadily went to work, clawing at the rich brown dirt in front of the porch, getting a flower bed all prepared. We sifted through seed packets and planned where each one would go based on the needs of sunlight and shade. Wire was strung in criss-cross sections on the porch so that ivy and vines could grow, creating a serene and yet bountiful look. My children helped by adding different statuettes to the garden, river rocks, even border fencing that we picked up while browsing through yard sales.

Slowly but surely everything fell into place, it was just time to wait for the flowers to grow. We waited expectantly each and everyday and yet nothing seemed to blossom. My face fell each time I saw the barrenness of my garden but not due to the fact that I would never obtain the yard of the month sign, this time it was because I didn't want the hopes of my children to fail.

A storm ripped through our small town in the middle of the night while all of the residents slept. By morning, trees had fallen, gardens had been damaged and everyone seemed dismayed. I knew for sure at that moment that the last hope of our family garden sprouting had probably gone down the tubes.

The next morning we received a pleasant surprise. Little green buds were fighting their way up through the moistened soil of the flower bed seeking out the warmth of the sunlight. My children's faces lit with pride and I felt my heart

• 1
• 2
• next page >>

Add your voice

Know something about Memoirs: My great, true, personal garden story?
We want to hear your view. Write now!