My husband got a little perturbed with me the other day.

“Seriously.” He says. “You went to the Garden Nursery INSTEAD of going to the grocery store?”

He was angry in that way nice people get pissed off, annoyed, and totally disappointed in the people they love. Not really yelling, but his tone. . .boy. . .I could hear it in his tone.

“We don’t have any food in this house. And I need food for lunch. And the kids need snacks.. . . .” And then he went on from there, but I zoned. out.

I was rather ticked myself.
Because honestly, I didn’t care that we needed food.
It was either go to the nursery OR the grocery, and I didn’t have time for both.

So I chose the food that would fill my spirit.
I wish that I would’ve had the presence of mind to tell him that. . . . . exactly.

I wish that I would’ve told him,
“My spirit lives on more that just food.
And gardening sometimes. . . . nourishes my spirit.
I need it just like I need food.
It wasn’t really a choice.
I HAD to go.”

But I didn’t say that.
I think I just rolled my eyes, threw something on the floor, and mumbled something about never having enough time to do everything I need to do.

But next time.
I will say it.
Gardening and plants are more to me.
They are memories of the people I love so far away.
They are my grandfather and the smells of fig leaves and tomatoes on the counter.
They are my mothers strong hands, veiny and pink entwined in dirt and cantaloupe vines.
They are summers, and spring, and hope of a better time to come.

It is what I need.
This is what I will tell him next time.
And he will think I’m crazy.

 – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

When I was. . .. .
8 maybe.. . .
I used to sit on my grandfathers porch in Louisiana and melt away in the summertime with my sister and cousins.
Usually I’d drink a soda, and have a Butterfinger in one hand and we’d take turns leaping over the hydrangea bushes that lined the front porch.

That is why I MUST have hydrangea in my yard.
That is why I did not go to the grocery store.
I woke up, and remembered hYDRANGEAS were on sale for $2.99, and I had to go.
Just had to.

Now, when I look into my sparse yard I feel my grandfather.
I know he will help me tend to my garden this year.
Maybe whisper secrets in my ears on how to make my fig tree grow as tall and as fine as his.
Or when I sit on my back patio he will blow the wind my way so that the sweet honey smells of my Satsuma tree make me smile.

I know he would do that for me if he could.
Because although he was a grumpy old man,
I know that he loved to garden,
and he loved me.