I feel like every year I write the same post about Nana's garden on Easter but it's kind of impossible not to. 'Tis a highlight of every year: a treasure, a blessing. An explosion of flowers and fantasticalness.
Nana's garden is the most magical place I've ever met and every year, as my childhood becomes more distant and my children's, more pronounced, I am affected deeply by our annual family gathering in a paradise my grandmother designed and created with her beautiful (and very strong) hands.
this year's menu = french toast + fresh fruit + meaty things
She has help, now, of course, but Nana is still active and incredible, gardening and writing and working the earth. She planted our entire garden last summer, using her cane to push seeds down into the soil. I am blown away by this woman and all that she does to maintain such a space. Retirement? Not this girl.