As a child I was not made aware of the many pleasures of planting, caring for and delighting in these little wonders. When I got married, I found a family who was quite different from my own. Here was a clan who knew the names of not only flowers, but of trees and bushes as well. Lively discussions found their way to the table concerning these treasures. They even went to nurseries to buy the exact kind of flower they wanted to plant and grow! Words like forsythia, shag-bark hickory, peony, geranium, and iris became common vocabulary and I have become more knowledgeable of them.
Thankfully I have a husband who grew up familiar with this passion because when we moved to our present house, a big lovely garden came with it. Located in a visible place on a busy street, many people commented as they walked or drove by that it was truly a sight to behold.
The one who had put this all together, the gardener, lived in the apartment above our garage and she made sure everything was healthy and spectacular.
But as all things move toward change, the time came for her to move and this ended our gardener option. Brian was not to be discouraged because he had within his own DNA the ability and the desire to carry on and make it his own.
I am quite proud of what he has accomplished. He works to keep it up even in the midst of gnats, mosquitoes, honey bees, heat and sunshine. Weeds are a relentless enemy but he stays on top of the growth so our garden can continue to be a place of beauty for all to enjoy.
I did call it our garden. Well, he works at it and I enjoy it. That makes it "ours", doesn't it?