Wanderings

/ J. F. Riordan

A friend and I went to a local greenhouse to make Christmas decorations with greenery and red trimmings in big outdoor pots. It was a lot of fun, and felt like the beginning of something both old and newly sweet. In the spring and summer, the seven greenhouses overflow with plants and flowers, but now everything smells like balsam and spices, and there are poinsettias, and garland, and wreaths, and hanging balls made with evergreens and sparkly things. It struck me sharply how much we need the presence of green things amid the darkness and cold of winter.

The family who own the nursery are fifth generation in the business, and the current manager told us of her great-grandfather who had been buried alive in World War I, and survived in an air pocket, eating the shoelaces of a dead comrade. He came home to his wife who had been told he was dead. Together, they began nurturing growing things, which seems both beautiful and significant.

In my family we have keepsakes: furniture, Persian rugs, silver, an ancient Bible, paintings and photos. And we have common threads, too: a love of learning, of literature and art, a passion for freedom and an expectation of basic decency. But I think about what it must be like to be upholding the family’s work in such a particular way, with all the significance and restrictions, resentments and pride that must come into the mix. All the generations–male and female–were represented at the nursery; they all seemed skilled and cheerful: laughing while disagreeing about the right way to place the boughs in a planter, teasing one another, singing along with the corny Christmas music, putting floral stakes and tape on pine cones and big shiny ornaments, and helping us create the right shape for our arrangements. They worked well together.

As we were leaving, we stopped to look at this old stone building next to the gravel parking lot. It was a poignant reminder of a family’s history.

And I like that.

19 thoughts on “Wanderings”

  3. That sounds like such a lovely way to get the holiday spirit! I am so attracted to shiny objects that I always say I must have been a crow in a previous life. Enjoy your decorating and I’ll be hoping to see your holiday cheer when watching Charlie’s interviews.

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  5. What a poignant story of their great grandfather. I cannot imagine the horror he must have experienced. But what a wonderful legacy he leaves behind with the greenhouse. The fragrance of balsam and evergreen is my favorite and always brings back sweet memories. There’s nothing like the smell of fresh pine to trigger Christmas memories. Thank you for sharing, Jan. It’s always so lovely to read and reflect on your wanderings and essays. Enjoy the upcoming Christmas season. Love to Auggie and Eli.

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  8. I love your writings. What a nice morning you shared with your friend. I went to my local greenhouse this morning also. Wonderful smells. Sending best wishes for you, Charlie, and the boys for a happy holiday season.

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  13. Lovely trip, maybe a tradition! I find we document such things better in our digital world. My family, very dysfunctional and downright mean, never took photos. Now we can see what our kids had for dinner last week. And we write down the happenings to look back on. Facebook memories is sweet, although sometimes bitter.

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  15. What a lovely time for you and your friend. We don’t have enough of those generational businesses in Denver. Hope your young Frenchman enjoyed the celebration.

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  18. What a beautiful way to celebrate the holidays. We used to go to Milaegers in Racine. But now it seems we are always in a rush to get home and start the indoor and outdoor decorating.

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