It was always on a Sunday afternoon that Mom would take us to "the woods." "The Woods" was a small patch of forest in Runnemede's northern end, and in spring and summer mom loved to take us there and point out the flora. She knew it all. We gave up our Sunday-afternoon-nap happily to go with her.
Usually it was just my mother, my sister, and me who went. Sometimes it was just my mom and me. She would walk through the woods -- no trails -- just pushing branches out of the way, looking for a new plant she could dig up and put in her garden. Oh, I forgot to mention that we lugged a trowel, and a small bucket with a bit of water in it to keep the plants moist until we got home.
I wish I could remember which plants she dug up. I know she always wanted a holly bush. Well, she finally got one -- but not from "the woods."
She visited me in Cincinnati, shortly after we moved there, and I thought she was going to have a heart attack when she saw my holly bush. She saw the runners under the bush and was determined to dig up a small starter and take it home on the plane with her. Well, she did dig it up, she wrapped the small root ball in a plastic bag and stuck it in her purse. That transplanted holly tree is alive and well at our former home in Runnemede (at least it was last time I was there).
Not to be outdone, the next time I visited her I dug up several iris bulbs and transplanted them to my home in Cincinnati. They're still there, blooming (in a couple of months). They are probably the only plants I didn't kill. I have a "black" thumb, not a "green" one. You get the picture.
Usually it was just my mother, my sister, and me who went. Sometimes it was just my mom and me. She would walk through the woods -- no trails -- just pushing branches out of the way, looking for a new plant she could dig up and put in her garden. Oh, I forgot to mention that we lugged a trowel, and a small bucket with a bit of water in it to keep the plants moist until we got home.
I wish I could remember which plants she dug up. I know she always wanted a holly bush. Well, she finally got one -- but not from "the woods."
She visited me in Cincinnati, shortly after we moved there, and I thought she was going to have a heart attack when she saw my holly bush. She saw the runners under the bush and was determined to dig up a small starter and take it home on the plane with her. Well, she did dig it up, she wrapped the small root ball in a plastic bag and stuck it in her purse. That transplanted holly tree is alive and well at our former home in Runnemede (at least it was last time I was there).
Not to be outdone, the next time I visited her I dug up several iris bulbs and transplanted them to my home in Cincinnati. They're still there, blooming (in a couple of months). They are probably the only plants I didn't kill. I have a "black" thumb, not a "green" one. You get the picture.
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