A Friendship Garden

 If you missed it, on Sunday I wrote about our neighbors who pitched in to help us water our new lawn. It was such an encouraging moment for me to witness, and I figured we could all use stories of hope and encouragement, so I shared it.

I also wrote a post about it on Facebook, and one of my longtime friends from the Marion days commented to ask if we needed more trees for our yard. She said they had some in their yard that had sprouted up, and she would be happy to share. I replied that I would check with Ryan and see what sort of yard design we were going to put together, because we very well might be able to use more trees!

Her comment, though, started the most delightful brainstorm in my mind. Her offer made me think about another friend of mine (also from the Marion days) who nearly every year posts that she has divided her hostas and has plenty to spare if anyone wants any. I told myself I should watch for that post and take her up on that offer next time she shares it. 

I remember one year when my sister gifted me a bunch of seeds she had harvested from her own flower garden along her fence row.  (All those stayed with the Marion house.) 

The more I thought about it, the more excited I became.

What if the bulk of our eventual yard design came through the sharing of friends? 

It's economical, of course, and that is appealing, but what excited me the most was the idea of the stories. I mean, it's already started in our yard.

We already have a weeping cherry tree named the Miss Juanita 2. It was my gift to Ryan for his birthday this year, in memory of his mom and in honor of the weeping cherry we planted at our Kokomo house and had to leave behind. 

We already have the Miss Phoebe - a hydrangea tree gifted to us by Phoebe's people. They brought it as a housewarming gift the day they came to have lunch with us and see our new home. 

We have the Miss Braeya Jo and the Miss Lexi Grae, the two maple trees the builders planted. We felt it was only right and proper to name one after each of our own fur babies.

We have a little daisy out front that my mom gifted me on Mother's Day. The landscapers planted it for me when they did the whole landscaping layout. 

What if we just kept going like that? What if we found people who had extra to thin out, so we transplanted their extra here and could tell the story of who grew them first and how our friendship with them grew and blossomed at this time or that? What if the plants and trees we looked out upon every day weren't just fun finds at a nursery, but they were stories of people and moments in time?

What if our whole yard became a friendship garden? 

I hope it happens this way. I hope we can find a way to plant pieces of our life story in tangible ways in our yard. I hope the living, breathing, beautifying parts of our property tell the story of the living, breathing, beautifying parts of our story who made us who we are today.