Meet Joyce. She is my maternal grandmother. In this picture, my mother, me, my daughter, and my grandma Joyce are standing in front of her amazing garden on Peaks Island, Maine. Her garden was impressive and photogenic and just perfect. Every year, she made my grandpa tear out another little bit of lawn so she could grow more beautiful things. It gave her purpose and joy to share her garden with her neighbors and any wandering visitors from the mainland.

While my grandmother is still alive, dementia has stolen her ability to garden. Gratefully, she passed on to me a love for tearing out grass and replacing it with flowers. My wish is to send her a beautiful bouquet next year, so she can see what her own garden inspired half-way across the country! 

Meet Bessie. Bessie was my paternal grandmother. She was motivated and a hard worker. When my sister sent me this photograph of her in 1946 hoeing a garden plot, I felt a distinct connection to her. It was as if she understood how I feel when working the ground and growing something amazing from it.

This flower business is quite possibly going to be the hardest thing I do outside of raising my children. It seemed apropos to put her name on it, for if she were here now, I think she would grab a tool out of the garage and start working alongside me as if it were nothing.