by Mary Brotherton

Created on: August 24, 2009   Last Updated: November 05, 2009

Mama, I'm going down to cut Grandmama's grass, okay?

Okay, but be careful. Her yard is like a jungle.

Yes, it was a tiny, perfect little jungle and a wonderful place for a pre-adolescent to hangout. My brothers and sisters and I took turns cutting our grandmother's small yard with her electric lawnmower; we never tried to escape the chore, because it was more joy than chore.

I loved to go to the first Master Gardener I knew, long before the term was commonplace and I always learned something new.

Cut the grass first, then come to the back porch. I'll have some tea ready for you, Grandmama said, when I arrived on schedule. Are you sure you can handle the mower? I don't want you running over the extension cord.

Yes, Ma'am. I'll be careful.

I was careful, but the first time I ran the mower over her spearmint bed, I cried. I turned the mower off and ran in through the back door. Grandmama! Grandmama! I did something bad. I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to do it.

Hush child, take a breath and tell me what you did. Are you hurt?

My head shook from side to side as she assessed my ten-year-old body for injuries. You didn't run over the cord, did you? I told you to be careful.

With tears streaming down my face and sobs the only understandable noises coming from me, I shook my head again.

Well, let's take a look outside and see what you did that was such a sin. It can't be that bad, can it?

Yes, Ma'am, I managed to say between blubbers and snivels. It's bad. It's really bad. I ran over your

My grandmother stopped at the edge of her back porch and took in a deep breath. Mm-mm, you smell that? She looked at me and handed me one of the tissues she always kept in her apron pocket. Blow your nose, girl; then take a sniff.

I sucked in air through my mouth and looked up at her for approval.

No, Child, like this. She demonstrated how to fully inhale through a big sniff of her nose and I mimicked her.

I smell, I smell

You smell my spearmint! Come with me, let's bring some in. We'll put it in our tea. She started walking toward the patch of deep green leaves I had accidentally cut through.

Her little orange mower was still at the scene of my crime and I started crying again. She put her hand on my head, and brought it down to caress my neck. Hush, now. You didn't do anything wrong. I was going to show you how to harvest the mint after you finished cutting anyway. Doesn't it smell like a piece of Heaven out here?

It did.

My grandmother, ancient to my ten-year-old eyes, knelt with me in the freshly cut grass and showed me the proper way to pinch not only the remainder of the spearmint, but other herbs. She put them in her apron and carried them around her yard as she told me the botanical and common names for all the plants that were in bloom. Together, we walked into her kitchen and without another word, she explained how gardening accidents can often be miracles in disguise.

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