Mom, who was a nurse, was at home from work because we kids - her children - had chicken pox. We were past the fever part, for which we took baby aspirin. We were at the scratching away at runny, itchy, spotty pox part, not dying or anything. She took advantage of the day at home to plant a garden near our front door.

First she planted pansies, deep glowing yellows and purples. That may be the first flower I learned by name because of that chicken pox day garden.

Most places I've lived have local rocks and such to border decorative plants and vegetable gardens. In south central Louisiana at that time, the terrain so flat along the gulf, rocks were not common at all. People used varied plants to border their gardens, and Mama planted monkey grass next, each plant a hardy fountain of low-lying strands of dark green vegetation. Monkey grass withstands freezes and heat, comes back cheerfully no matter what, it seems.

Seeing Mama contentedly planting the pansies and the grasses was a kind of reassuring antidote to our illness, which continued to rapidly fade away.