A snow-laden winter garden may appear bleak, but beneath the earth beats the slow, steady heartbeat of hibernation. The emerging January light, perhaps the finest for photography, has a newborn clarity. January, associated with the Roman god of transition and beginnings, Janus, looks both forward and backward in his depictions. He takes the wisdom drawn from the past into the future, an investment much like the good faith planting of seeds.
With all of us keen for spring and the making of new memories, it is in the quiet time of winter that the groundwork for the miraculous happens. Looking back, we appreciate the qualities that initially drew us to friends, sustaining memories even though we may enjoy the beauty of snow and crisp, clear winter days while we wait “safely apart”. (Quotations marks convey the hope that these pandemic expressions will one day fade away from our collective memory.)
Wonderful friendships may have dubious beginnings. One friend who loved gardens and helped them flourish approached me across a middle school cafeteria during study hall. Certain I was in trouble, a fait accompli for the teenage mindset, it was quite the opposite – she worked in the school and needed a volunteer. Immediately, I admired her style. She always wore a colorful scarf, fabulous earrings, and/or a vibrant lipstick – that conveyed her appreciation for beauty. As a fan of Maureen O’Hara, I loved her red hair. This graceful woman and a gangly teenager may have seemed an unlikely duo, but the chemistry of friendship was there. Our friendship evolved like one of those lovely life surprises when your friends’ children also grow up to become your friends.
No friend was more loyal. We were each other’s cheerleaders during short hems, long hems, big hair, sleek hair, and regular to gel manicures. We shared scoops on everything from sales on bakeware to arts & cultural events. She rolled with my youthful Star Trekkiness as I did with her mystifying love of cats. (Kidding, cat fans.) No one topped her for the relish and rapid-fire sharing of news-breaking gossip divulged to her circle of friends, but like a skillful tightrope walker, she balanced airily far above meanness. She and her husband, also a wonderful friend, kindly extended themselves to many friends and former students for years.
My favorite story about her is one that I cannot share, but it involved her inventive and hilariously audacious sleuthing to help a wronged friend. (Will leave this to your imagination for now to preserve everyone’s privacy.) Nora Ephron once wrote about her disappointment that while dining out with family and friends that no one had told her that she had spinach in her teeth the entire evening. Mine was the friend of the gentle nudge or signaling nod who saved me from many awkward social situations like a slip hanging out. (Checked Macy’s online, and slips appear not to have fallen prey to COVID chic.) No one could ever even insinuate, much less say a bad word about anyone she loved in her presence, which was a rare gift to all of us as loyalties now change along with trending hashtags. Lest my friend, who became our family friend, seem too serious, it was our shared laughter that I most recall along with our second birthday celebrations together, being almost birthday twins.
In the way that both falling snowflakes on the face awaken us or the first spring breeze feels on bare skin, thinking of my friend brings home the pleasure of a garden. In her retirement, she volunteered at a beautiful arboretum among many nonprofits. She most enjoyed working in the garden away from the politics of the office, displaying perennial wisdom. Showing children how to appreciate nature and pass along beloved flowers, plants, and trees through generations was a true joy. Having grown up with a special magnolia tree, lilac bush, and weeping willow trees planted by and for family members, I can understand the deep-seated satisfaction of gardeners like my friend who grow flowers, plants, and trees anew from those passed down to them by parents and grandparents. These make a new place truly home, especially now with so many having moved. As for my friend’s own flowers, as a meal shared with friends tastes better, so the flowers in her garden were more fragrant and the petals like velvet to the touch.
Our family friend was a prolific reader with virtuosity in discussing authors and their works. My wish was to delight her by being successful with writing in her lifetime, but her love was not dependent upon any behavior or success – it was for who I was, her most generous gift. Though parting a few years ago was difficult, I was grateful to be here in the Garden State again to show her my gratitude and love while she was ill, small gestures along with those dedicated ones of her loving family and friends-like-family. Devoted to her husband and family, she summoned all her strength to live until her 50th wedding anniversary, which she did with great joy. Her life-affirming appreciation of God’s gift of nature’s beauty reflected a steadfast belief that we would all meet again.
Writing about my friend has brought long-awaited snow, a gift indeed. Next month, a visit to the arts, which my friend would have enjoyed.
(Sources: extension.umaine.edu/gardening, merriam-webster.com, Wiki)
“The Garden of Friendship” © Kathleen Helen Levey 2021 All Rights Reserved
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