Sally Lopez tends the “Peace Garden” in her backyard. Currently, tulips are in full bloom and have been the centerpiece of a few arrangements for those who cannot leave the house because of COVID-19.
By Emily Lopez
Twenty-eight years ago, Sally Hix and her soon-to-be husband, Gerry Lopez, moved into a small, grey townhouse in Newport News, Virginia, their first home. They had a tiny backyard that she filled with flowers. Their second house, however, was where she discovered her love of gardening fully bloomed. Their lackluster small brown, square house came with a wonderful backyard. It was filled with large azalea bushes in full bloom and was convinced by her friend to try vegetable gardening, and start the first garden of her life. Ever since, gardening has been an important part of who she is.
Beyond the tangible benefits—the vegetables and flowers and herbs that have nurtured our family—gardening has shaped the way she looks at the world; it’s been a vessel for life lessons, a source of her peace and well-being. And now, in this age of coronavirus and self-isolation, her hobby has become even more important. It brings her tranquility. It fosters hope. “I know some people find it harder to be hopeful right now,” she says. “But the sun rises and the rain still comes.” Even in this season of anxiety and grief, seeds are sprouting, flowers are blooming.
Before the pandemic, my mom would regularly stop what she was doing to give a garden tour to any neighbor who happened by. On her daily walks with my dog, she would stop and talk plants with neighbors and wind up taking home three new plants. Even now, she delivers bouquets to shut-ins and helped arrange the flowers for her church’s live-streamed Easter Sunday service “to share the beauty and joy that I get to experience every day.”
Twenty years ago a friend gave her Larkspur seeds from her late mother’s garden. My mom planted them, and every year those beautiful blue flowers produce seeds to grow more. Over the years she has given seeds from that initial plant to dozens, perhaps hundreds, of people, and they have ended up all over Yorktown and the state of Virginia. “Every summer, I see Larkspur in full bloom when I drive around our town and I can’t help but smile,” she says.
Years ago my mom decided to add artistic flair to her garden. She started by having me paint a giant peace sign for the gate, and from then on our backyard has been known as The Peace Garden. She asks people to paint whatever they want on reclaimed wood, then nails them to the posts between the flowers and vegetables. Subjects range from Maya Angelou quotes to Copacabana hats and as well as whatever hymn or Grateful Dead lyric recently inspired her. People stop their cars to gawk at the art. A few years ago someone left a plastic bag with a note of encouragement inside that read, “Hope + Love = Peace.” Amen.
While it seems these days that some people are running out of things to say to their friends, my mom texts almost daily with a close friend, Elizabeth O’Brien, about seeds and garden plans as well as meeting up to safely exchange plants.
“Your mom has inspired me to garden,” O’Brien said “to get outside and observe the new growth each day, to try new seeds, new techniques and share our stories. That’s the best part: hearing how a day can be made better by picking a vegetable for your supper or flowers to share on a table.” And in a time when human contact has been replaced by Zoom meetings and Facetime, gardening builds community.
I’m proud of my mom: She not only creates hope for herself—she makes it a shareable asset that builds genuine connections between people.
Gardening teaches us to “see past the tiny-ness of the seed and have hope for the possible abundance in the future,” she says.
“Gardeners are the most hopeful people on Earth.”