GHOST BUSHES

There is a lovely vineyard that I pass by every day as I go to and from work -- and during this time of the growing season, the owners drape the vines with yards and yards of white netting.

The bridal style veils are to keep the birds from eating the smaller grapes that will help along next year's crop, or so I'm told.

Whatever the reason, a few days ago it struck me that these vines looked very much like "Ghost Bushes."

The "Ghost Bushes" term is not something I dreamed up, frankly it's a derivative of "Ghost Plants," a nickname given by a very dear friend of mine, Jane, who was an avid gardener.

GHOST BUSHES

Jane loved growing things. Jane loved growing people, too, by the way, and I was one of those fortunate ones in her garden of human flowers.

Her garden consisted of so many different items -- but a very common element in Jane's pastures were the plants better known as Dusty Millers.  Dusty Millers are those plants with silvery leaves that have a way of shining bright on moonlit evenings.

Jane grew many Dusty Millers, and she had a way of describing them that was uniquely hers. She called them "Ghost Plants," and as she used these words her eyebrows would rise and her voice would drop an octave to speak of these oh so mysterioso plants.

Needless to say, the other day I found myself driving by the grape vines in the vineyard, draped in fall netting, and I heard Jane's voice calling the sight, "Ghost Bushes." A smile grew in my heart.

Jane has been living in the Great Beyond for a bit, and those of us who were in her orbit while she was among us were lucky people indeed. She had a lot of adoptive daughters in addition to her own brood, fortunate women who enjoyed her presence, laughed at her jokes, called her "Mom" and most of all, to this day are able to identify "Ghost Plants" or "Ghost Bushes" thanks to her incredible mindset.

During this autumn season, may I suggest that you try to spot silvery trees or bushes or plants, and smile broadly when you realize that you are looking at "Ghost Plants."

Jane would so approve.

Amen, and pass the mustard. I miss you, Mom.