Posted by Amy Boyte at 9:22 AM
The bush grew as big as the front door. Every year I would get so excited to see the big blooms. Then about 10 years ago, it died. My grandmother had Alzheimer's by this time. I never got to ask her if that was the real name of the bush.
Last summer, while strolling through the endless flowers at Lowes, I saw one labeled "Snowball". So, I HAD to have it. J planted it for me. It was a tiny thing and I watered it and cared for it.
Enter summer. My grandfather died, followed by my grandmother. When I finally caught my breath enough to look at my plants, the snowball bush had withered.
This spring, I was getting ready to pull up the dead bush. I didn't have the heart to do it last year. As I reached down, I noticed tiny green bulbs were beginning to sprout from the ends of the "dead" branches. I froze. It was a miracle! I could almost her my grandmother's voice. The bush was alive!
Yesterday, after many months of spending weekends cleaning their house, my family held an estate sell at my grandparents. As I walked around to the door, I saw something out of the corner of my eye that made my heart stop. My grandmother's snowball bush - for the first time in 10 years - was in full bloom.
Now, it didn't have all the glory that it had under her touch. It was a little wild-looking. It was not the perfectly trimmed round bush exploding with blooms. Instead, it was a straight shoot into the air - about my height - with about 10 big snowballs.
I can't remember the last time nature has shown me something so beautiful.