My Little Apartment Orchard To Be
My grandma (Mam) and I are what you could call kindred spirits. Even as I've moved out of Ohio, I feel like through our weekly (or more often than that) phone chats, we have become closer than ever. This week, our conversation ventured to the arena of spring planting.
Mam has one of the greenest thumbs of anyone I know. She is happiest in her garden, and and when she merely looks at a flower, it will blossom and flourish vibrantly and fragrantly. Of course, she has to give any praise you dote on her a good Midwestern denial of any such talents.
This year, she decided that because all her plants were "dying," she'd try ordering herself a blueberry bush from the gardening store. The price in the Sunday newspaper ads seemed just right, and you grow it in a pot, so it must be easy.
Of course, I, the one who constantly has visions of culinary herbs dancing around my head, got excited at this notion and jealously declared I wanted one as well. Can you imagine the pure deliciousness fresh blueberries and yogurt for breakfast every morning? And what about blueberry muffins (with lavender!), and, oh, blueberry cobbler! How could NOT having your very own blueberry machine (er, bush) ever be a good idea?
We continued our raving at this fabulous thought and other spring fancies. I shared my determination to grow my squash from seed without killing the poor little seedling and my fantasy of having my own apartment-size Meyers lemon tree. (So whimsical, right?)
"Ok, dear... that's a little odd..." Mam said in the way that means she's skeptical but delighting in your crazy ideas.
And so, our conversation ended. Mam set out to invest in her little blueberry bush and I went home to dream of all the things I can grow on my balcony when the weather turns warm.
Then the next night, I received a phone call.
"Dear, you don't have to call me back," Mam told my voicemail. "But I ordered you a blueberry bush. It should arrive at your apartment in the spring."
Yipee! Blueberries and yogurt, and muffins, cobbler and pie ... oh my! I can already feel those cerulean baubles of antioxidants dancing over my tongue, filling my belly, and refreshing my soul.
Then today at work, I received another phone call.
"Dear, you don't have to call me back," Mam told my voicemail. "But I ordered you a lemon tree. It should arrive at your apartment soon."
Can a girl be so lucky as to have a grandmother who really knows how to spoil AND be the future keeper of a Meyers lemon tree? Oh yes, she can. That she is me!