On a small farm in rural Alabama, Ada Mae and Sol with their son Vivian wonder how will they find their way? The year was in the Great Depression. Their solution may lack wisdom as well as originality. They have another child.

Maternal and paternal gametes meet among the calm and blue. Chromosomes cross and sort but somehow a collision. Genes that should be forever silent crash open and do not stand down. The milieu thickens and grey becomes more grey. The boiling brew escalates yet more angrily. Bolts of current fire across the violent exchange. The tempest turns. The storm surges. Switches find their place and are poised for the pull. At the command, the disease schizophrenia will be unleashed. For now, the disease sleeps until time to awaken. The baby girl, beautiful, gentle and demure is Voncille.

2017 an aging man, Barney, senses something is very wrong. His once never ending stamina is ebbing away. He is married to the love of his life 57 years. She is a gardener. They have a daughter who has the same love for the garden. He does not have this love for the garden but because of a greater love for wife and child he makes it a triad. There is one more, perhaps always one more, garden to make. He turns the soil and prepares the beginnings of the new garden, ever so well. It is his last gift to his beautiful wife and his little girl.

Voncille is now a young lady and is ambitious and goes to college, rather uncommon for the day. She insists that she not be called Voncille, she prefers Vonne. She meets a young engineer, Barney. He signs up for a tour in the Army and is stationed in Alaska. She has elegant penmanship and a way with words. The letters fly back and forth from Alaska to Alabama and their romance is long distance. Perhaps that is why he did not see it.

Soon after they were married, the switches are thrown. Schizophrenia awakens. It is among the top five most disabling diseases. He sees frightful and utter collapse of the mind. She hears voices and commands from within and sees visions unreal to all else. Organized thinking crumbles.

They have children in the midst of heartache, like Sol and Ada Mae. I am the eldest daughter. Despite the episodes of psychosis and grandiose delusions, Vonne manages to take care of her home and her family, and does so very well. She is high functioning and uses the talents God gave her to the maximum. Vonne is beautiful, yet is a lover of classic beauty, oh, but especially a garden!

This picture was in my room when I was growing up. I was the little girl. I saw the beautiful lady as my Mom. There were dark days when madness visited us and I longed for her to return as she was in this picture. It was much later that I find out that this Renoir painting is known as “Sisters”. I find it strange, even to the present day, as it surely is a depiction of a mother and her little girl.

When the disease had a stronghold grip on her, she was drawn into nurseries and planting. It was a balm for her mind. I was her biggest encourager and I was the action for the vision. My dad was not a garden enthusiast but was just happy to be along for the ride. I have many memories of our triad with a shovel and new treasures from a nursery. She was happiest planning and planting a garden. We were both addicted. It was never enough. There was always another garden project. A greater part of my life I was fearful that I would unravel to this disease where one is removed from present reality and ushered into a world no one else can hear or see. I am thankful to almighty God who granted me escape from the gene(s) for schizophrenia, but I am very glad to have her garden gene!

A vision plants itself in the heart for the next new garden…

I dream of a parterre. I envision classic and formal beauty with geometrics and order. Order is so comforting, a peaceful balm to the soul. A fledgeling attempt to tame nature. Plan and design. The Renoir picture is perfection. My inner being longs for it. By 2017, I begin to speak of the dream out loud. As I talk more, I am met by others with questions, or silence or polite platitudes. When I speak of it to my mother, she is overjoyed. She basks in every nuance of the plan. Viva! Approve, cheer on, long live!

I buy “mother boxwoods”. There are two dear friends who know more about gardening than I ever will and they graciously agree to impart their wisdom (and some brawn!). The plot has been well prepared. Mere small cuttings are taken from the “mother” plants. They are planted and watered. How they grow!

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Conditions are adverse. Weeds and fire ants seem to defy any deterrent. The dogs visit often with disruption. There are several episodes of drought. December 2017 Barney passes away and what follows is the final fragmentation of Vonne’s mind. My heart is forever broken. Over 200 little cuttings struggle along for two years but ultimately thrive and flourish. It is then we find the best about ourselves among the worst of times.

The plan is a walled garden. There was a tendency to hide the disease. Little did we realize what we were hiding something of great worth, a priceless gem. Peer inside!

The roses are old home place roses, bred for the south, relatively black spot resistant. They endure heat and drought and remain everblooming. The best part is the fragrance.

My family and gardening friends are hopelessly reigned in to help plant. The project construction takes much longer than initially planned and I blame the Rona Reason. Planting day falls on the hottest day of the summer. I think these people love me and I am basking and baking.

The view from the second story of the house. Life is breathed into VivaVonne.

Come now, peer inside! The boxwoods and roses so young. Come visit again to see it grow!

A mere few months after planting God smiles down.

I become her caregiver. She no longer lives in our world and cannot possibly perceive that her mind has dissolved. I bear the disease for her the last days. I am honored.

As I write, her strength is ebbing away. Soli Deo Gloria. Forever grateful to this beautiful lady. May the garden grow. May she be released from this disease, yea but soon. You Grow Girl!

I love you Daddy. Your little girl misses you.

Some books leave one with a deep impression, and things can happen… Thanks so much to the Antique Rose Emporium for being kind to a novice.

A heartfelt thank you goes out to my friends and family: Chris, Tracey, Elizabeth, Tyler, Meredith and Rebecca. Thank you Chris for your negotiations as I was short on my boxwood count!

Thank you Jeremy Wiggins as he never laughed at me, even from the beginning. He made it happen! Check out One Stop Services!

Many thanks to Dalton for placing the European street lamps. This is the birds favorite place to perch, then nature happens. Notice the spikes at the top. Don’t mess with this widow.

Farewell until the next garden. Meanwhile, I will have a fabulous time watching the garden grow. The brand is “corona”! Anyone for hire? I guess I will learn how to use these things…