Irene's Primrose

My grandmother Irene's primrose is in bloom in our garden. She had many primroses in her garden; this one she called Primula Absciassica, although I have never found mention of that species anywhere. She said it was originally from Siberia, and that it can only be grown from plant divisions, not from seed. My grandmother died in 1994, and gave me this plant years before that, so it has been growing in my garden quite a while.

When I told my cousin Tom that the Absciassica was in bloom, he asked if I wanted a piece of the cactus he gave Irene decades ago. He took the plant back after she died, and apparently this cactus has had many generations of cactus offspring since then. Next time I see him, he'll give me a pot with one of the "babies."

We talked about the connection that these plants give us with our much-loved deceased relatives. There is something nice about the stuff that used to be theirs, and now is ours. I wear a coat and some shirts that used to be my Dad's. We have a ceramic lamp that I made for my Mom and took back after her death. These things give us a feeling of presence that we miss after our dear ones die. They aren't as important as the memories, but they lend a physicality to those memories. For me, this is particularly true of the generations of living cells in plants that Irene once grew, and that propagate now in our garden.

With that in mind, take a look at this "white forsythia" growing in our back yard garden.It's really a cousin of the yellow forsythia, not a true forsythia, although both are members of the olive family. This was one off the plants my grandmother gave us when we moved into this house in Guilford. What makes it special is its fragrance. We spend about a week or 10 days each early spring going daily to smell the white forsythia while it's in bloom. It has a sweet, intense smell, without being overpowering. If you live near us, come experience it in the next few days! Otherwise -- put on your calendar to come see us next year in late March or early April. That's when our spring garden really starts flowering, and you can visit with my grandmother Irene's primrose and smell the white forsythia!