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On the subject of the memorial service, I was very touched by the gift of the living marigold. Not only does this humble flower stand guard at the garden’s border repelling unwanted insects but it is an essential member of any first aid garden. For the first time in my life I have a garden and I was just saying the day before the service (to no one in particular) that I wanted more orange marigolds, the yellow ones I inherited not being my preference.

On the crowded subway the fragile stem bent under the weight of a single ponderous flower and I was suddenly sad and panicky that it would not reach home intact. While trying to shield it from the sea breezes on the ferry a man asked me “what is it all about” and when I told him he held up his jacket to block the wind.

On reaching home I took some scotch tape and gently pinched it around the stem. I untied the slender red ribbon and unwrapped the white muslim cloth that swaddled the small neat root ball. Then I made the softest bed I’ve made for any sapling ever and eased into the earth the threadlike tendrils of roots.

And so, every morning when I leave for the city I say,” Good morning, Amanda, I’ll see you later”. And when I return in the evening it’s. “Hello Amanda, I’m home!”

That Amanda….who knew… the love affair just goes on….