Just about this time last year, as the shadows were lengthening and harvest-end was nearing, I video called my Grandpa to let Lily update him on our pea shelling. If you’re from the Deep South, you know there’s nothing like pink eye purple hull peas with cornbread (no sugar added, thank you). Living in the Midwest now, I couldn’t find pink eye purple hull pea seeds locally, so a few years ago, Paw-Paw mailed me a whole bunch of seeds.

When I called, Paw-Paw was spending his last days in the hospital where I was born. And I knew something was different when he didn’t open his eyes to see Lily and her bowl of shelled peas. He loved my daughter. Knowing then that it was nearing harvest-end for Paw-Paw, we made the decision to drive south and spend his last days on earth with him.

Little did I know we were driving into some of the most emotionally charged and challenging moments of our lives. I still haven’t processed those moments completely, and I’m not sure I ever will, because re-visiting is painful. I’m glad I know the most Wonderful Counselor though, because I’d not have withstood the furious storms otherwise.

But, back to seeds! I was just standing in my kitchen, almost a year after Paw-Paw went to heaven, again shelling peas. Grabbing my phone, I snapped a quick picture to share with Hearth and Hive social media followers—a gardening tip about seed saving. And like a dam had burst, the memories came flooding. Isn’t seed saving a bit like re-membering?

If you buy heirloom seeds once, research a bit about saving particular seeds, and then saving those seeds, you need never buy seeds again. It’s a gift of sustainability. And it’s a lot like memories. Until my life’s harvest-end arrives, and I cross into heaven, I won’t see my Paw-Paw again. I won’t hear his voice laced with correction, wisdom, and love. But I’ve saved those memories and lessons and carry them in my heart—heirloom.