Returning to my Roots

I love a good trip. I'd define a 'good' trip as follows: happy expectation in leaving home followed by the actual travel to the new location without any snags or bumps. Good hotel and lovely Bed and Breakfast stays. Decent food. No sickness. Sightseeing and leisurely mornings lingering over coffee. And then, finally, the excitement of coming home to sleep in my very own bed and eat a home cooked meal. A good trip all the way around.

Heading to New England was exciting due to the fact that so many of my ancestors lived there long, long ago. I've written about my love of genealogical history and it helps me to physically understand the geography of a region by driving it rather than just looking at a name on a map. Braintree, Hingham, Portsmouth – I have tangible locations now in my head that anchor all those generations of names. I can almost imagine the untamed wilderness that was once New England and the awe I feel for all of those immigrants who leapt into the unknown by crossing the sea and settling here fills me with respect and wonder.

Adams Stone Library at Peacefield

And yet, as this small jaunt across the country wound down, I found myself continually gazing at landscapes and gardens. At Plimouth Plantation, I felt homesick as I saw the garden beds. My fingers itched to pull the weeds coming up in the pea patch. The thing is – wherever I go – I notice the gardens and landscapes around me. I notice yards that have become outdoor rooms or pathways to serenity. I feel the abundance in a well tended vegetable garden or orchard of apple trees. New England is beautiful this time of year and I enjoyed our visit but my thoughts were turning to my own garden – to the vivid green of a northwest spring day.

I came home with the anticipation of immersing myself in yardwork. I spent yesterday happily bent over my rows of carrots and kale pinching out the weeds. I fussed and fertilized until I was too tired to do anymore.

Roots are funny things. Even though my ancestral roots dip deep into the New England soil, it is here in my own garden, on my own land, that I feel grounded.