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| Sweetie in my garden at last |
You never know what you’ll stumble upon when browsing The Weed Lady’s place. As we drove north toward Fenton, I assured my friend Maureen something beautiful and valuable would call our names.
My two previous visits to this gardener’s paradise dated to more than a
decade ago. Maureen’s recent birthday presented the perfect occasion to return.
We’d spend the afternoon celebrating with plants and dine on beef tenderloin afterward
at Lucky’s.
“They have the best steak,” a friend of Maureen’s and Fenton resident had
said. And I’d heard the same vote of confidence from Imlay City friends.
Maureen’s
phone guided us to our destination on Fenton Road. I didn’t recognize the area
for all the recent development. At last, The Weed Lady’s wooden house appeared
on our right.
As I remembered, the scent of every square inch surrounding the landmark
welcomed us. A gurgling pool and begonias of various varieties sat amidst
repurposed furniture and garden structures.
Urns of all sizes and prices and succulent plants led us into the gift
shop. Maureen spied Italian terracotta pots. Mama and Papa pots with offspring
of all sizes waiting for a sunny window or garden. And our adventure had just
begun.
“Ready for the greenhouse?” I asked.
“Yes! I’d like to find a succulent for my kitchen window.”
On our path to the greenhouse, every garden structure imaginable sat
arranged with like kinds. Again, the urns tempted me.
“I cannot buy what I cannot carry to the car and into my gardens,” I
said.
Maureen smiled. “Good idea.”
I spied a group of dog statues lounging under a huge tree. “I wonder if
they have a Lab,” I said, thinking of my grand-dog, Lily.
Approaching the odd doggie park, my heart leapt at the sight of a small
collection of cocker spaniel figurines. Their sad, puppy-dog eyes reminded me
of my ginger-colored pet named Sweetie Lee.
I lost Sweetie forty-five years ago and had since searched for a proper
memorial to place in my gardens. The price on the cocker spaniel was right. I
lifted my little Sweetie with no effort and carried her while Maureen and I
browsed tables of succulents in the greenhouse.
“Look at the pattern on this urn,” Maureen said, pointing beneath the
table where we stood.
The vase, embellished with wine-colored flowers and filled with wet potting
soil, appeared to have been abandoned. Again, the price compelled me to purchase
the unique treasure. But I couldn’t lift it on my own.
My birthday friend and I selected our succulents and made our purchases,
including the rejected vase the clerk emptied for me.
Dear Reader, I placed my Sweetie dog in a garden today to view from my
kitchen window. Her sad puppy-dog eyes drew loving tears.
For as Maureen and I dined on Lucky’s steak, I recalled my boyfriend who
bought Sweetie for me, for she became my confidant during my parents’ divorce.
Thanks to Maureen and The Weed Lady, I at last found the proper memorial to my beloved and faithful pet.
