The Enola Garden
Connie and Carla hopped off the school bus and barreled down the long driveway. Oh how excited the schoolgirls were! The next hour was sheer delight as they pored over the new Scholastic order form. There was such contemplation as there were buying limits and discussions as to which one she will order now, and which one will have to wait until next time. Connie selects The Beloved Invader.
I look back on my late elementary years and this wondrous story. I was held captive as I read, and read again. How can it be that as a child I was drawn to a late 1800’s story of loss of a wife, a husband, then a child? Who knew, but God? I knew I had to visit St. Simons Island where the people I got to know lived, loved, lost and survived. The early 1970’s found me longing to walk where Anson, Ellen, Anna and little Anson walked. I so much wanted to see the church where they served and pay my respects to where they were put to rest. After I lost my husband in 2013, I was drawn to the St. Simons families again and I knew I must go. The time had to be right. As these people taught me how to heal, a garden began to take shape in my heart.
I find myself drawn to the remarkable families I read about as a child, in The Beloved Invader. I cannot escape the story, the people, the island. A garden takes form in my soul. From stirrings, to paper, to brick and mortar.
Summer 2021, my mother recently passed away after a long and difficult illness. Every cruel curve ball of life is compounded after the loss of a spouse, now gone the one who is leaned on. The loneliness seems endless and hopeless. How did Anson and Anna find their way? Anson pastored Christ Church Frederica, served the island people and learned to love again. Anna poured her heart into the Dodge Home for Orphan Boys. Their work still goes on. Hear ye, all hurting people, our work can go on. I turn in loneliness, a sad feeling, for aloneness, simply a state of being. Aloneness is at peace with solitude, depending on oneself instead of another. I dub myself a trail name: Enola. This is alone spelled backwards (I do not own the rights to this idea!).
How many storms have beat upon the island? Yet the aged oaks stand broad and strong. The hanging Spanish moss cast a charming spell on deep thinkers. There are stories here.
Eugenia Price writes of Anson telling Anna after the death of their young son, “I love you Anna, and that’s going to help me wait for God to tell us how we can avoid wasting our grief.”
Somehow, I know these people. I have lived some of what they lived. They did not waste their grief. I pray God the same.
Enola learns to accept aloneness (one can always hope!) and the Enola Garden, a potager, takes form. A potager is a French kitchen garden. It is designed for fresh produce, but ah, the French appreciate beauty! The potager has select, fresh ingredients for the table this season, differing from the traditional southern garden that produces for an entire year. It emphasizes what we have and that is today.
Enola? Loneliness? Aloneness? I err. God has bestowed upon me beautiful family and friends. They continue to hold me close. Gatherings and dining are on order! Delectables and fresh selections are served up from the potager with conversation, gratitude and laughter. My heart, so full, replete with joy and oh the bounty!
I introduce Enola Garden:
It is good for the soul. There is a little St. Simons’ resiliency in me and in this garden. I have many to thank, never alone!
I am thankful for my family and friends who gave me gifts of money, especially Reba and Gary Uzel, my mother- and father-in-law. I used it to purchase quite a few iron pieces. I am always indebted to Charles Philips Antiques and Architecturals, they have the very best! A big thank you also goes out to my sweet and most beautiful sister, Carla Penton, who gave me gift cards, knowing it fuels my hopeless addiction. I love you my sweet Sis, thank you for being there for me. Always.
I am forever grateful to my wonderful friend Tracey Duren who helped me assemble this trellis for a rose rambler. She is a master gardener and made this project actually quite easy! Thank you Tracey for standing by me while this iron was over our heads and thank you for standing by me the last few very tough years of my life.
The Albrighton Rambler, full of hope and promise, already racing upward! Thank you Emma Mitchell for the David Austin gift card, again for my 60th birthday. I love you my friend!
Many thanks to Billy Duren for the hardware. I am quite sure that Threaded Fastener did not have this in mind for this piece of hardware.
Once again, so grateful to One Stop Services! They are great to work with. I had too much fun with this one.
The St. Simons’ lemon grass finds its way home. The story is in this garden, always with me. The planter is a gift from my three daughters many Mother’s Days ago, it finds its way to this garden. Thank you my sweet daughters for loving me so hard through our sad times. I love you more than I can ever express. I am looking forward to sweet times to gather here!
The Enola Garden.
Another beautiful and relatable addition of your truth, pain and healing… thank you so much. I have a friend whose son died tragically and I am sharing your writing with her … your openness can help many.
Selina
I am so very sorry for your friend. I hope my humble writings can help a hurting heart, at least a bit.
A fascinating discussion is definitely worth comment. I do believe that you should publish more about this topic, it may not be a taboo subject but usually people do not talk about these subjects. To the next! Many thanks!!
Sorrowful, share with, and prayerful in your trial. Rejoice in your transformation by His Spirit. Your glass is full, brimming over.
Hello Dr. David, many thanks for the reminder to rejoice. I am thankful for the full and brimming.