My grandparents on my mother’s side always had a garden, no matter where they lived. They were city folk, and even when they lived in an apartment, they managed a nice little plot of land in the back of the building, where they grew fruits and vegetables. Later, they moved in a house with a big garden, and my grandfather’s obsession with gardening was finally given free rein. He planted everything in there: grapes, tart cherries, cucumbers, tomatoes, rhubarb, berries, parsley, onions, garlic, salad, potatoes, apples — the list could go on, but I can’t find the English words for some of the things that grew (and still grow) there.

Just a few short weeks ago, I visited my grandfather and got to walk through the garden once more. It was bittersweet this time. My grandmother has passed away, and the place is lonelier and more melancholy. But it’s still beautiful, and it’s full of memories for me, since I practically grew up there.

Shortly after taking this photo, I took a pair of scissors, cut down a few bunches and ate them. They were delicious, of course.

This flower shone so pure and white with the rays of the falling sun passing through its petals, that I just had to photograph it.

The name of this plant in English escapes me at the moment. In Romanian, it’s “busuioc”. Not so long ago, women in the countryside would take bunches of dried up “busuioc” with them to church. Its fragrance would fill the place.

I believe this flower is of the same kind as the white flower pictured above, but its petals are red. I’m terrible with plant names (actually, I’m terrible with names of any kind), so I don’t know what it is. But I really liked the shape and color of the petals. If passion could be photographed, I think it would look like this.

I’ve got so many beautiful photographs from Romania — many more from my grandfather’s garden, the various cities and places I visited — but so little time to process them. Oh, how I wish I had a few months to spend curating my photo library…