Writing by Angela Dunham // Photo by Mehmet Uzut
I still remember the golden afternoons in Nan and Pop’s garden like they happened yesterday. The sun warming my little face, the smell of fresh earth in the air, and the way Pop would crouch down beside me, steady and patient. “Just a little hole, like a tiny bed,” he’d say, “then tuck the seed in soft so it can sleep and grow.” Pop taught me the importance of getting my hands in the dirt and to this day, anytime my nails have soil under them, I smile and think of Pop.
Nan’s humming would float around us as she taught me how to propagate roses. She often taught me in sing song, singing the instructions to me instead of talking. That was her method and one I’ve employed with my nieces and nephews. Though I’m not sure my voice is quite as good as Nan’s.
As Nan and Pop entered their 80s, the house and garden became too much work so they moved into a small apartment. While Nan and Pop seemed quite content, I missed my afternoons gardening with them more than I thought I would. I missed the soft breeze, the dappled light, the smell of the soil, the thrill of watching something grow, and most of all, the way we’d laugh and talk while we worked side by side. Drinking one of Nan’s concoctions which usually involved too much brandy.
So one weekend, I brought them a little indoor garden — pots of rosemary, lavender, and other herbs, all ready to sit right on their windowsill. It felt like bringing a piece of that old garden straight into their new home. At first they weren’t so sure, but I told them it would be my garden in their home. That I would be over to visit every week to tend to it and they wouldn’t have to lift a finger. I think they liked that.
While Nan and Pa are still doing well, as they age, I want to be there to navigate the changes that come with ageing—whether that’s in their bodies or in their minds. Smells have this amazing power to unlock memories and bring back feelings, like tiny time machines for the brain. So I’m starting early by bringing their favourite smells inside—little pots of rosemary and lavender that fill their new home with the scents they love. Sensory herbs, including rosemary and lavender, are even used by some assisted living communities for memory care and to stimulate conversation and comfort.
I love that that these little plants are like tiny messengers, carrying stories and calm from our afternoons outside to this new space. When Nan smells the lavender or Pop runs his fingers over the rosemary, it’s like the garden is still alive — growing quietly with them.
And for me, it’s a way to keep gardening with Nan and Pop, even if we’re not digging in the same soil anymore. Every time I water the pots or brush my fingers over the leaves, I feel like I’m right there with them, learning patience, noticing the little things, and holding onto something steady in a busy world.
Gardening with them wasn’t just about plants — it was about connection, stories, and finding peace. Now, those stories keep growing, one little leaf at a time, right there on their windowsill.
This is a partnered post, which helps keep Ramona running on good vibes and internet juice. Partnerships keep the lights on (and the site live), so thanks for supporting independent media!
