As I look out my window at the beckoning space, which contains the lovely flowers and foliage placed inside a semi-circle of stone, I can't help but think of the petitie soul who created this sactuary of peace and serenity, amidst the suburban dwelling, in which those of us, her neighbors, still live. Her name was Mary and she was a fair haired Irishwoman, who could be brought to tears upon hearing an opera aria, or just as easily put you in your place, if so inclined, and sometimes, without much provocation. This feisty little woman with the Irish lilt, which had softened over the forty years she had been absent from her native country. She was a cultured individual who embraced art and music, was well traveled and an avid conversationalist, when she so chose.
There were those of us who called her mother, aunt, sister and friend.
Some knew her better than others but all who knew her will remember her in their hearts and minds. Mary is now gone in body but her spirit lives on in our memories and the lovely garden created by her loving hands and the blessings of Mother Nature. Some of us continue to nurture the delicate petals of the flowers that still bloom, despite the fact that she no longer tends them. We all realize that soon enough, someone else will possess "her" garden. As all good neighbors do, we will welcome them and wish them well and most of all, hope that they too, will cherish tending Mary's garden.
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