I finally got off my ass and registered for classes. Evidently, if you use the temporary password they gave you multiple semesters ago, you can register online early. This is good because it means I can duck my advisor, whom I may or may not have sent an email detailing my inability to register due to crippling anxiety in frank and personal terms. 

I’m a Sociology minor, but my school only has so many 200 and 300-level courses, and I have taken most of them. I’ve been lurking on the online portal day and night, waiting for an opening in a couple of courses, but thus far, I have had no luck. I may email one of the professors, as I did well in another one of her courses, and see if I can get squeezed in. We shall see.

In the meantime, I’m taking an extra history class, and I am totally fine with that.

It’s only January, but I’m already shaking off the Winter blues and getting things done. Aside from school, I finished remodeling our master bedroom, and it came out GREAT. It feels too nice to even be a part of our house. I had rented it out to somebody for an extended period, and they left it in rough condition. We basically just gained 30% more space with the elbow grease we put in. Being rewarded for hard work really does kick ass.

It really is a beautiful room. Most of the day, the room is bathed in sunlight, which means space for more plants. I will always get more plants. I have orchids, Ivy, and weed going right now, along with a couple of giant waiting room-style houseplants, and a cactus I bought in Arizona. Now that we have a new space, I’m getting even more. 

I’ve mentioned before, but my parents had a tiny house with a few acres of land, which gave my mom a blank canvas to create the most beautiful yard I’ve ever seen. While we had roses, lilacs, crocuses, and lamb’s ear for me to put between my fingers, the vegetable garden was my mom’s greatest accomplishment. It was huge.

We had everything from mini onions and eggplants to fresh peas, carrots, green beans, and tomatoes. My mom loved fresh tomatoes so much that when they were in season, she drove around with a salt shaker in her purse. She would stop at tomato stands and then eat one in the car, seasoning it with the salt. Wild stuff.

We had so many fresh veggies on hand that my mom took up canning and preserving. We had enough canned, stewed tomatoes to survive a serious crisis.

I have personally had mixed results with growing vegetables. That being said, I did inherit my mother’s ability to care for house plants as well as flower gardens. 

I noticed two Summers ago that a wild Tiger lily was growing out of the abandoned lot across from my house. There is some refuse over there, so I have been reluctant, but this is the year. I’m stealing and transplanting that bad boy, and I can’t wait. Trash piles are fine.

When my mom would show me all of her flower beds every year, each one had its own story. Every flower was planted with thought and purpose, and the result was an odd tapestry that gave me little crumbs about my mom’s past. 

One flower bed never changed, and that was the bed of Tiger Lilies. 

Framed between a pair of massive oak trees and encircled by one of those classic New England stone walls, the Tiger Lily bed was off to the side in a quiet part of our yard. While not clearly visible to everyone, this hidden patch was one of the most important. The Tiger Lilies were some connection between my mother and her mother. 

A relationship that she barely spoke of, this spot was one of the only places where it was reflected upon with positivity. My mom didn’t say much, but you could feel it. “This spot is for Grandma,” she would say quietly every year. 

Normally, my mom didn’t discuss my grandma at all except in small ways, and usually, you could see a darkness creep over her in those moments. As an example, once, my mom was putting vapor rub on my chest when she kind of zoned out and was like, “Grandma used to make me eat this…” Holy shit.

My mom is a complete mystery to me, having lost her so young, but I know she had an emotional attachment to Lilies. My wife and I are pretty settled in currently, so I think it’s time to give her a patch here, where I, too, can look back on our weird, tumultuous, and ultimately loving relationship. My mom never made me eat vapor rub, by the way.

JTC