Green with Gratitude.

Poppies were her favourite flower. A little bit wild, especially interesting and brave enough to grow almost anywhere. That is why Poppy loved her name. It suited her and reminded her of all the most wonderful things she could be. Poppy’s mum loved flowers, and named her daughter Poppy to honour both her beautiful new babe and the delicate flower that prevailed in any and all terrains. Growing up in the country, Poppy and her mum had an enormous garden. It sprawled across their yard, and crawled along the exterior walls of their house. It grew flowers of every variety, leaves of every shade and texture, and generously offered fruits, herbs and vegetables throughout the year. Poppy and her mum worked hard on their garden, every day they spent time tending to new plants, pruning old ones and pulling out the pesky weeds that appeared like a dropped stitch in their otherwise perfect patchwork quilt. They would flop down on to the garden swing after each gardening day, wiping their flushed faces with the backs of their hands. Almost always they would forget they were wearing their gardening gloves and smudge dirt across their foreheads. Gleefully painted with their precious garden earth, Poppy and her mum would lean on each other as they made their way inside for a cold drink. Poppy loved nothing more than gardening days shared with her mum, those days, like a long sleepy hug reinforced everything warm and comforting between them.

The garden gave and took from them with perfect gratitude. Turning it’s face toward the sun and rain, it continued to grow lush and green with gratitude.