vintage memories
Love The love between a mother and daughter continues to grow over time. Blooms had done the drive more times that I could count. I love going back to the family farm. Feeling homesick on a glorious fall day, I dropped our son off at school and hit the road south for the eight-hour drive. I would be at the old farm by late afternoon, where I would receive an unexpected gift. They were waiting for me as I pulled up to the little white house. The front yard was overflowing with them, glowing bright red in the afternoon sun. My mother had called them “naked ladies,” which always made us giggle as little girls. The ladies are a bulb type of flower from the lily family, standing tall and proud on a stalk with no leaves. In my 50-plus years of visiting our old home, I had never noticed them before. Then I realized I had never come here in September. Summer vacations, birthdays, and holidays brought me back home—none of which fell in early fall, the only time these lilies bloom. I knew that my grandmother had planted the naked ladies. She passed away when I was 6 years old. The entire front yard of the home was once a huge flower garden, where I remember playing hide-and-seek. No one has lived here since she died. These perennials were a part of her garden that had carried on for all these years. I would remember to take a bouquet I By Melinda Dennis
grandmother’s garden of long ago. Sometimes we learn about our families in surprising ways. On a sunny September afternoon at the old farm, I received a gift: an unexpected message of love from my grandmother, sent years earlier when she planted those brilliant naked ladies. ^
of these ladies to my 90-year-old aunt, whom I was off to visit in a few days. This farm was where she and my mother were raised. I made the rounds of the property: the woods, the old stock tank, the pastures and my mother’s old climbing tree. I rocked in the weathered swing under the century oak and watched flowers swaying in the warm breeze. I was marinating in the moment, the fifth genera- tion of our family to sit in this place. Before heading out, I stopped a quarter mile down the road to walk our family cemetery. Pulling up to the gate, I could see them shining on the far side of the graveyard: more naked lady lilies, like the ones in the yard at the farm. I made a beeline to the flowers to find they were at my great-grandmother’s grave site. Dropping to my knees, I realized that my grandmother had planted these flowers on her mother’s grave. My great-grandmoth- er had buried nine babies before a daughter, my grandmother, came along in 1890. The letters and cards saved and passed down re- flected how much this mother and daughter loved and cherished one another. My great-grandmother passed away in 1931, yet her daughter’s memorial was still alive. The red blooms were a thoughtful gesture from my
Melinda Dennis is a fifth-generation Texan living in Bucyrus, KS, with her husband, son and assorted sheep, dogs, kitties and a couple of happy Longhorns named Lewis and Clark. She is a jewelry designer, art photographer, handcolorist, painter, dreamer, storyteller and cloud chaser. She owns TresMelindas Rustic Pendants and Melinda Dennis Photography (mdennisphotography.com). Tag along at tresmelindas.tumblr.com.
VintageKC / Spring 2013 46
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