Stories

My grandmother’s greenhouse was one of the first places my little roots passed through on their way to becoming the woman I am today. I feel her memory in every greenhouse I walk through today. It rests on my shoulder like a warm presence, and I am taken back to that first greenhouse I knew and the woman who filled it with plants. It is a place and a woman who would be absent for the majority of my life. Yet it is a place and a woman who left its essence forever entwined in my psyche.