Seed

The forget me nots community has its seed in 1998 when I was deeply moved by Kenneth Koch’s account of teaching poetry writing in a nursing home in his book I Never Told Anybody. The complex emotions and layers of memories evoked by his simple prompts and then hauntingly, beautifully expressed by the residents have never left me.

Soil

This seed put down roots in soil rich with a love of language and the value of memory and connection. My parents read aloud to us almost every night and provided us with unlimited access to excellent books. My grandparents, aunts, and uncles reminisced about their childhoods. I have never enjoyed small talk; I want to hear your story. The memoir as a genre captivates me.

From my earliest days, I have been attentive to natural beauty and attuned to the small things: to the blossoms, mosses, grasses, seeds, ferns, buds, lichens, leaves, husks. My love of books and beauty united in stories like “Children of the Forest” by Elsa Beskow and novels like Heidi, The Secret Garden, Freckles, and Girl of the Limberlost in which nature held the power to heal minds and bodies, to connect hearts, to restore relationships.

Eudora Welty’s beautiful memoir One Writer’s Beginning, read in 2001, confirmed my habitual attention to detail, to nature, and to story and left me forever discontent with stories not evoking a strong sense of place. Edgar Lee Master’s Spoon River Anthology invited me to consider the loveliness and tragedy of our interconnectedness, and to always seek many perspectives. One voice is not enough.

Cultivation

The summer my daughter was born, this soil began a long process of cultivation. That summer of 2005 we lived in a tiny house in the middle of an apple orchard, and every morning I would gaze out the kitchen window at a sea of dew-damp cornflowers, pondering and anticipating. I began to consciously connect cornflowers to that season of my life and to the joy of my daughter.

Since that time, I have been actively watching for new trees, plants, and flowers. Each season I am on the lookout for plants I have never noticed or named before. They become defining elements of phases of life and they provide such stability and joy as they return year after year as anchors to memories. It has been a deeply grounding and richly rewarding practice. In 2013 I stumbled across the incredible book Seeing trees: discover the extraordinary secrets of everyday trees by Nancy R. Hugo and received such inspiration and encouragement.  

Blossoms

Finally, in the summer of 2019, the forget me nots project suddenly blossomed. I found myself savoring the word azalea—I love the sound, the feel—but to my surprise, I realized I don’t have a specific memory of azaleas. Yet I knew that someone must. What might someone else recall when they see azaleas, I wondered? Or cornflowers? Or any of the other plants I hold dear? Trusting the power of prompts, I began to collect memories of plants as a kind of community garden, richer and more beautiful for each bloom.

Start reading our stories!

Visit my corner of the garden.

And, most of all…please share your own story!