Weeding

Today I weeded. Weeding always makes me think of my mama; some of my first vivid memories of her are in her garden, which is one of her very favorite places. We’ve always had a garden, and so there has always been a fair amount of weeding in my life. It’s amazing how much knowledge is ingrained is us, and how it can come flooding back, a river from our childhoods, things your mama taught you and her mama taught her. Like how good it feels to have your hands in the dirt, and how it looks under your fingernails, and how each weed is different; the little ones that are a piece of cake to pull, the larger ones that look scary but come out easily, the stubborn grasses that sometimes land you on your rear before you realize that they require a spade. How Bermuda grass is the sworn enemy of anyone trying to grow things. How you have to pull everything up by their roots, and throw them far away in the sun so that they don’t take to the ground again. 

The onion and garlic patch. There is a certain glorious satisfaction in weeding, rooting out the unnecessary things so the plants can have room to grow and flourish. I am having a fabulous Italian adventure, an amazing experience and a much needed time of soul-searching, but right now, today, I just miss my mama.