Fists full of lettuce

It is a pot of a variety of lettuce plants.

It was planted by my mom. She has been living with Stage 4 bile duct cancer for at least 1.5 years (that we know of, probably a lot longer). Standing and gardening are becoming harder as time goes on.

She learned about gardening from her dad as a kid and kept on gardening every year of her adult life. Sometimes the gardens were tiny or rudimentary, but with the help of my dad , they have become major and, at times elaborate, growing projects over the years. Now it is a collection of raised beds and regular beds that hold a host of plants, vegetable and flowers.

Something that was clear that first spring with Stage 4 cancer is that gardening would continue in a big way, cancer or no cancer. It was important to order the seeds and start them inside and get them planted outside, no matter what.

Spending time together in the summer with cancer now consistently involves gardening and following instructions.

Planting, and prepping and weeding and cultivating and eating are how we spend time together as a family.

She gave me a pot of lettuce a few weeks ago. Anyone who grows lettuce knows that you have to keep cutting and eating the lettuce to keep it growing.

As I placed the lettuce pot on my steps, guaranteeing it lots of full sun and rain, I reminded myself to eat fists full of lettuce as long as I can so that the lettuce keeps coming. Don't let this lettuce bolt (grow out of control)...or wither.

Keep eating the lettuce.

Keep its life going by eating it.

Don't hold back.

Comments

I entered August without you.

I won't visit you this month. You won't call. I will raid your garden and you won't get any of the vegetables. I will make plans without telling you about them. We'll go to the store and not buy you one single thing. Whole books will be read and I will not tell you which ones. I will watch movies and not inform you. The nasturiums will ripen. Last month was different. I changed my schedule and took time off work to be with you. I dropped all kinds of plans for us to be together. You sent me messages, I received them. I picked up food that I thought you would like at the store and sent you pictures of every beautiful thing I saw. I sang with you. We watched the Great Canadian Baking Show. You chose the recipe for the garlic scape pesto and gave me instructions for making the gooseberry jam. I am in August without you. You are in July.

Vantage Point

She sat in her chair in the living room. It was the right structure so that she felt supported and aligned. The vantage point from her chair was and still is ever changing. Through the picture window the flowers budded, the leaves fell and snow drifted, day in and day out. In the evenings she would watch Jamie Oliver and Great British/Canadian Baking Show with my dad, in the mornings, she would have a coffee and make a plan for the day. It was the place she returned to time and time again throughout the day , for a rest, for a phone conversation, to read. Through the months of her illness, she continued to recruit volunteers, write letters about causes she cared about, write notes to friends, check Facebook and plan meals to try from that spot. She and dad did a lot of adventerous cooking during that period and still brought food to share with neighbours who were going through something or needing extra help. As her illness weakened her , gradually her worl...

Growing Versions

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