Spring is a glorious time when the flowers show their heads and the air is filled with a sweet smell of growing. It is early for those smells and sights here in Minnesota so I pulled my husband along and we went to visit the spring flower show in St. Paul at the Como Park Conservatory.
It is a small conservatory that was opened to the public on in 1915 with public zoo behind it. It is a beautiful historic conservatory. We parked in the lower parking lot out by the ball park to add to our walking for the day. The sun had finally come out but the wind was wild. It almost felt as if winter was trying hard to have one last say before spring pushed her aside.
We entered the conservatory to the sounds of flowing water, many shades of green and the warmth and moisture of late spring. This was the fern room – ferns taller than I and unfurling to the spring light. Small drops of moisture were dripping on our heads as we walked under them. The hurrying feet of everyone slowed way down. We all needed to re hydrate our lungs from the winter. At times the whole place seem to stand still just waiting for our bodies to adjust from winter to spring.
We moved with the crowds of people into the sunken garden. Here the room temperature cooled again to help hold the spring blooms. This year the display was all purple and white. Purple Tulips, purple Hyacinth, and Johnny Jump ups were everywhere but it was the white Easter Lilies that sent me tumbling back in time.
Every spring he worked his garden. Every spring he would have Easter Lilies ready for church on Easter Sunday. He would dig them up, pot them and bring them to church the day before. The story I remember most is the year that one plant had 19 blooms on it. Now I can’t quite believe that one but that is what he told me.
This old gardener passed away in 1974 at the age of 98. Even at that age he was always interested in what was growing and how he could get into the garden.
So as I soak in the smells and sights of the flowers on this Palm Sunday it is not surprising he has joined me. He is still seeking a way into the garden if only through my memories.