As I walk my acres, I often reflect on how much my childhood has affected what I've planted here. I suppose that's a little strange since I grew up in a small suburb of St. Louis, Missouri, called Wellston. We certainly did not have five acres or so to plant in; nevertheless, what we did plant and what I grew up with has undeniably influenced my choices decades later.
The most obvious way is my love for irises. We had tons of them in both the yards I grew up in; the one on Derby Avenue--that house is now gone--and the one on Chatham Avenue--that house is still there as well as the house behind it where Grandma Blackburn lived. And the neighbors on Chatham had hundreds of iris too. Yep, iris were "implanted" into my consciousness--dare I say heart--at a very young age. They are still my favorite flower by far. I have hundreds of them everywhere on my property. And I am always thinking up ways to add more! I often wonder how great it would be to go back to Wellston and see if any of those old iris are still there--not just at our house but at the Saffley's house next door. And even though the Saffley's house is gone and it's just an empty lot, I would love to go and see not only if some of the old irises are still prospering there--and in our old yard--but also if I could move some of them to my acres in Ohio. You may think it strange, but I would prefer to dig them up in the late fall or winter when they are dormant just so I could be surprised by what colors I got. I would probably have to wait a couple of years on the proverbial "pins and needles" because it usually takes my new iris two years to decide they like where they are and bloom.
I love iris. Waiting is good.
Another childhood memory that has impacted my planting is the huge sycamore we had in our back yard. I loved that old tree with its huge limbs and huge leaves. It was a beauty. Anyway, I have planted a couple of them here. I will be long gone before they get as magnificent as the one we had on Chatham, but my imagination can picture it. And here at Iten's Acres I don't have to rake those huge leaves in the fall. The one who does my raking is called "the wind." That old tree, by the way, is still alive. You can see what's left of it by going to Google Earth and typing in 6337 Chatham Avenue, Wellston, Missouri. It's not the beauty it was, by I see it with my childhood eyes--as magnificent as ever.
We also had peach trees; I have a couple of those. Lilies; I have a ton of those--literally. Roses--which I don't have much success with probably because they need special attention and I'm an every plant for itself person; I do, though, have a few struggling roses on the place. And we had phlox; one of my favorites still today. On my place I've had to plant them near the house. The ones I planted away from the house have served as deer snacks from time to time. I do have some little "patches" in the wild area that, so far, have escaped "lunch time." I figure, probably irrationally, that the deer have missed them because they are all mixed up in the millions of other flowers out there. A man can hope, can't he?
We had bleeding hearts in Wellston as well, but they are associated with a "family tragedy" in my memory. One spring Grandma Blackburn was helping out by weeding my mom's flowers and mistakenly pulled them up thinking they were weeds. I have done everything I can since then to make up for the error and to cover up for Grandma by planting bleeding hearts wherever I can. Amazingly, there were two enormous ones already on my property when I moved to Iten's Acres. Right next to the house even. Imagine my joy when I saw those that first spring! Grandma must have been here before me helping with the cover up.
Anyway, as I walk Iten's Acres my childhood walks around with me--inside of me. It is a companionship I cherish. Who said one's personal history is irrelevant? Mine is filled with beauty. In the present tense. I need to take my granddaughters for a walk and give a "lecture" on "the history of flowers" in the Iten family. Maybe I can plant a seed or two?
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