Stone Flowers

                                        Stone Flowers

                                           by:  Mo Hoyal

  More and more, less and less seems to get planted in the grounds and gardens around this small parcel of land.  Could it be that we live on a road called Pandora?  Hardly.  I’m not too superstitious that way, although I must confess I have my moments.  I still throw salt over my left shoulder whenever I spill some.  Seems to me I remember a famous president of the United States doing just the same thing, and that always seemed to make it OK for me to do.  If the Ronald did it, so could I.

  I’m nearing 65 next month, on disability-I hate the word-with three areas of my spine injured, and with four gruesome surgeries to add stitches to my gardening apron.  After all, I am a cowgirl and we don’t quit so easily.  I should stop digressing so early into my story.  In the meantime, God has blessed me with some of the cutest grandchildren in the world!  Of course, I’m biased.

  Anyway, as my mind continues to ramble away from disabilities and nagging chronic pain, I quickly turn my thoughts to gratitude as I am still able to walk, and to also do some useful things.  Here lately in the gardening realm though, I just let the little girls have their own flower beds to do whatever they so choose.  Shaylee, who wasn’t quite 4 at the time, mostly did as she pleased.  However, Shaylee has always taken great pleasure in burying all kinds of things in the dirt…any dirt…anywhere!  And so it wasn’t one bit odd for her to follow suit in her appointed spot in the garden.

  McKenzie, the elder and more methodical, when approaching age 7, planted with patterns and determination.  So, they planted and patted, watered and waited.  A few sprigs would come up and then mostly wither away.  Eureka!  McKenzie finally had results showing on her side of the patch.  Shaylee, on the other side of the patch, had zilch, zero, nada.  When children try so hard and the growing things mean so much to them, you hate to see disappointment on their tiny faces when nothing comes up.  There isn’t anything that comes any closer to seeing into their souls, as when gazing into their angelic eyes.

  McKenzie’s green beans climbed their trellis, flowered and we harvested.  Shaylee’s side was still barren.  What’s a grandmother to do?  Come to find out, and far away from the reaches of my aging mind, a memory came drifting back.  Yay, it isn’t Alzheimer’s!  Shaylee had planted colored stones from the old fish bowl, while McKenzie sowed green beans, for gosh sake!  Hence, the reason Shaylee’s patch was still barren.

  Then one evening as I strolled through the garden at dusk, my brain went into overdrive-almost knocked me over!  The old light bulb came on.  So I quickly gathered a few twigs that had fallen from the neighboring oak tree that we nailed a happy face onto-the kind you see in gardening magazines, (eyes, nose and mouth).  It really lends even more life into that tree.  Taking the gift of twigs from our mighty oak, I brought them into the house and plugged in the glue gun.  (I am still a gun-totin’ honery cuss!  A most incredible invention of this century, the glue gun.  A woman can fix darn near everything with a glue gun!  What on earth would we ever do without it?)

  I brushed the twigs clean and then glued on all sizes and colors of arts and crafts gemstones, fish bowl stones and parts from a broken bracelet.  I let the twigs and stones dry carefully, setting them into a vase for safe-keeping.  Voila!  We then had stone flowers!

  The following morning when Shaylee arrived for the day while McKenzie went to school, I led her by the hand, asking her to keep her little eyes closed tight.  I carefully led her to the garden and to her patch where nothing was growing.  When she opened her eyes as told, “miraculously” before her in all their magical colors of wonderment, were her beautiful stone flowers!

  She put her little hands up to her face and gasped, “I can’t believe it!”  Oh, instant heart melt, and lightning bolt love speared itself into my heart as well.  I was more thrilled than Shaylee, if that could have been possible.

  We may end up with fewer flowers growing here this season.  Most of our produce will be purchased from the grocer, but anyone can manufacture stone flowers when growing times become bleak and there is the need.

  The best reward of all was to witness the absolute joy that was brought to a precious little life, upon her discovery of the beautiful and wondrous stone flowers that just popped up overnight to grace Shaylee’s side of the garden.  Till today I still thank God for the idea that came my way all those years ago.  And, this was the baby who smiled on the day she was born!  I saw it as plain as can be.  Shaylee continues to be a blessing.  Her sweet smile warms my heart every time she graces me with one, which is always followed by the words, “I love you, MeMo”.  How blessed can one woman be?

photos by:  Mo Hoyal