Planting Pussy Willow Memories

My mom sent me this picture.  She remembered that her grandma displayed a vase of pussy willow every spring.  In honor of that memory, Mom set her own 2016 gathering next to the antique clock and spice box that belonged to my great grandmother.

I asked if the willow patch south of the fence in the yard on her farm came from great grandma.  “No,” she said.  “That came from Cliff of Dover.”

Cliff upholstered furniture.  Mom attended many farm and estate auctions over the years.  More than a few times, she brought home a sturdy item with beautiful wood or carving that had once been used for sitting.  Cliff was a key player in the process of transforming the grubby, scruffy, and sometimes just plain yucky stuff with “great potential” to a renewed state of usefulness and simple elegance.  Mom recalls that on his farm near Dover, Cliff had a great garden that included a koi pond and a stand of pussy willow.  He believed in sharing plants too.  When mom picked up the latest resurrected item one spring many years ago, Cliff had a bundle of willow cuttings for her.  “It’s easy,” he advised.  “Just put ’em in some water to get the roots started.  When they get roots, plant ’em.”

Mom gave me some cuttings off the plants Cliff had given her.   My cat Chunky “helped” me get them in a jar of water.

I’m going to get a new patch started in the yard of our farm house — the same house where my great grandmother once lived.

It’s been said that pussy willow spreads deep roots.  It seems that they can easily weave of network of memories too.

What memories have you preserved by sharing or receiving plants?