Beech Tree News Network

There was a small blue wild flower that grew along the roadside when I was a kid growing up in Spencer County.  None of the adults knew what it was called, so they deemed it a weed.  I called it a Cornflower, after the Crayola color, Cornflower Blue, in my box of 64 crayons.  I was grown before I discovered it was called Chicory. 
When I moved to Butler County, almost 37 years ago now, I was disappointed that it didn’t grow in the area, nor along the roadsides of Warren County, not that I could find, anyway.  A couple of years ago, Chicory started to appear along the roadsides of 231 in Warren County.  Last year, the plants made their way to Butler County, and two weeks ago, the light blue flowers appeared on my farm.  I understand the many ways that plants migrate from one area to the next.  Seeds are made of powerful stuff, surviving wind, rain, freeze, bird droppings, and unintentional roughness at the hands of small children.  I don’t know which it was that brought Chicory to my farm, I’m just glad it got here.
I’ve always loved plants and flowers, and I gravitate to those who love them, as well.  (I even married a farmer, although I didn’t know it at the time.  When I met Garey, he was cleverly disguised as a coal miner.)  The people who share plants and seeds with me have a special place in my heart.  I refer to them as Johnny Appleseed’s children, a nod to the folk hero who spread the apple tree’s progeny.
Every fall, I repot a huge violet that hangs in my kitchen window.  I separate the individual clusters of roots that have formed small plants of their own.  I give these small violet children away to good homes then add fresh soil to the Mom and Pop plant, so they can raise a new family the following year.  The single leaf from which that violet grew was given to me over twenty years ago by my friend, Thelma Farris. 
Almost all of the plants growing in my yard were given to me by friends.  They didn’t come from green houses or seed packets or Walmart.  My favorite flowering plant, Obedient Plant, came from Teresa Porter, the Cardinal Vine and Bee Balm came from Rick Fowler, the Gardenia came from my mother-in-law, Agnes Hughes, and the peach-colored Day Lilies came from my sister, Marsha Dailey. 
There is something about the face of a plant that makes me remember the face of the person who gave it to me.  There are two plants that are very special to me: the first is a Hibiscus that was given to me by the late Joyce Neighbors; and the second is a Baby’s Breath bush given to me by the elderly Mattie Quintrell, whose ill health made it impossible for her to continue to live in the area.  When I see Pansies, I always see my youngest daughter Nikki.  Nik and I would always plant them in the spring, because she said they have happy faces and they made her happy.
Because Garey and I use seeds in our garden that have been handed down for generations in Garey’s family, I have a lot of respect for heirloom plantings.  My friend, Shelia Phelps, grows many heirloom plants.  She shares with me, and I like the fact that she grows her plants organically and she always knows their backgrounds.  My particular favorite is the Radiator Charley’s Mortgage Lifter Tomato—made famous for the man who was determined not to lose the farm.
Two years ago I went to a seed swap in the mountains around Berea.  While there, I met the director of Southern Exposure Seed Exchange.  The exchange offers a seed catalog containing only heirloom seeds.  She was interested in our Cream Crowder peas and White Velvet okra seeds that have been in Garey’s family since the 1930’s.  It gave me such joy in the early spring of this year to see our okra listed in their on-line catalog.  It gave me even more joy to see the words, SOLD OUT, across the product.  They want even more seed for next year.
I like the idea of living on through plants and seeds.  It is an attitude I learned from my father, Johnny Appleseed.