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Memories
in Bloom

By Winola VanArtsdalen

A Grandmother’s Passion Lives On

As long as I can remember, I’ve loved Columbines throughout their homeland. These beauti-
spring. It signals the end of the ful flowers continued to thrive all on their
cold, cruel winter and the coming the love of plants is in my genes! own, beside that little house in the shade
of flower-filled summer. In his beautiful of a deciduous tree whose leaves nourish
book, “Making More Plants,” Henry Druse When my mother’s grandfather died in the soil after dropping each fall. Each
opens his chapter on propagation with, “I 1912, her parents (as was the custom) spring these flowers come back into bloom
was born in the spring, and I never got built a little house for my great-grand- right where they were lovingly planted so
over it!” You may prefer a special time of mother next to their farmhouse so they many years ago. Amazing!
year that just happens to be the season of could take care of her. She brought with
your birthday. With an April birthday, I her columbine seeds, planting them be- My mother’s parents, the Carlsons, lived
have always identified with spring. Now side the little house. Personally, I have about a mile away from the farm where
that this season is a time of reconnecting always wondered if she brought these I grew up. When I was a good little girl
with my family through keepsake plants, precious seeds with her when she and and finished my chores early, I was al-
the connection to the pre-summer months my great-grandfather migrated from lowed to walk to their house. Just as my
is especially strong and brings back to me Sweden back in 1867, as columbines can mother always told me about her visits to
beloved memories of fun-filled, lazy days, frequently be found growing in the wild her Grandmother Carlson, the first thing
growing up on the farm. my grandmother would do when I visited
was take me by the hand and walk all
You see, I was born and grew up on a farm around the yard. We’d look at my great-
in Labette County, Kansas. My father’s grandmother’s columbines in bloom, then
family had settled the land while the In- head to the garden to harvest vegetables
dians were still roaming these plains, and to see my grandmother’s pride and
and his grandmother ran a nursery on joy, her poppies. At the end of our walk,
the banks of the creek which ran through we would sit together for milk, cookies
the farm. People came by horse and buggy and – for my grandmother - an afternoon
mostly to buy her seeds, though many coffee. I always watched as she got out her
also purchased plants. As you can see, best dishes for our little parties.

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