The Roots That Raised Me
A Mother’s Day tribute - for gardeners with rain in their hearts today
Today is Mother’s Day, a time when my mind naturally wanders to the garden—not just for the blooms, but for the women who taught me how to tend them.
My journey with Mother Nature didn’t start with a book or a YouTube video. Far from it! My gardening story started in my late grandmother’s small, incredibly productive garden in a small town in KwaZulu-Natal. She didn't just grow vegetables; she grew life. I don’t ever recall my grandmother spending endless hours in the garden. As a matriarch, she was always busy with many other things but somehow, the soil always yielded to her will and she enjoyed abundant harvests. She grew many seasonal crops and fruit trees. To this day, in the front garden, there is a large peach tree that she was especially fond of. Though she is gone, every time that tree fruits, I can see her picking a peach and biting into it as though she were taking a big bite out of life!
Whenever she would visit me in Joburg, we’d walk around my garden and she’s give me gardening tips. I liked being able to school her about plants she’d never grown like heirloom tomatoes, purple tomatillos and gooseberries. She was always game to try them, and even to take some seeds to grow at home. There was truly nobody I enjoyed talking gardening with more than her. She was my first and finest teacher.
That legacy didn't stop with her. My own mother took gardening lessons and adapted them to her own life. A container gardener, my mum proves that you don't need a hectare of land to be a productive gardener. Inspired by my grandmother, she has mastered the art of the container garden. Her containers grow everything from spinach to olive trees. They are a testament to the fact that love and nature can thrive in the smallest of spaces if you have the heart for it.
I remember the day my grandmother died. All I could do was cry while I worked in the garden until the sun set. Something about sowing my tears as though they were seeds was deeply comforting to me. I dedicated my book, Garden My Heart, to Khulu; my amazing grandmother and best friend. Someday, we’ll be together again in a garden that never dies.
As I reflect on my gardening journey this Mother’s day, I am so grateful to my grandmother and my mother for sharing with me the joy of tending a garden; the delight of a sprouting seed and the peace that comes from being grounded in the earth.
There is a unique kind of heartache in looking at a blooming rose or a ripening tomato and wishing you could pick up the phone to share the news with the woman who first showed you how to plant them. If you are missing your mother or grandmother this Mother’s Day, remember this: A gardener’s legacy is never truly gone as long as the soil remains - it lives in your hands, in your resilience in and out of season, and in your harvest. You are the living bloom of their hard work and love.
Be as kind to yourself today as you are to your most delicate seedlings.
#GardenMyHeart #MothersDay #GardenLegacy #WomenWhoGarden