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A Legacy From My Aunt
Bringing dormant branches indoors to bloom
Today in mid-March, with the temperature in the mid-50s, the sun shining, and the breeze conducting itself with decorum for a change, I stood beside a huge forsythia bush in my front yard, carefully cutting off some leggy, dormant branches.
In southern New England, forsythia comes into full bloom in mid-April. But as I cut a dozen or so of the slightly-budded, brownish stems, I smiled, remembering a much-loved aunt and her many lessons to me.
My Aunt Mary was one of the warmest, kindest, most exuberant people I have ever known. She had a wide smile, welcoming eyes, and a happy greeting for just about everyone fortunate enough to come her way.
Aunt Mary loved children. She loved every possible kind of animal. She was gentle and warm-hearted with the sick or elderly. She seemed to sense just what a person or an animal needed from her at that moment, and she responded to that need without hesitation.
It seems even flowers, shrubs and trees fell under her spell. Her colorful, sprawling garden seemed to mirror her personality and body type: voluptuous, expansive, and a little bit wild.
One day in late February, Aunt Mary taught me something I had not known before. She showed me several vases in her house…
