Growing up, my Grandma Rose lived across the road from me. Some of my fondest memories of Grandma was from spending time at her house when I was just a young girl.
The one thing that was very apparent was that Grandma loved her plants. All kinds of plants. She could go on and on about how beautiful her iris were, as well as how amazing her tomato plants were thriving. She just loved anything to do with gardening.
An Abundance of Flowers
Grandma’s flowers were never really neat and orderly. Instead, they seemed to flow together with a variety of colors and shapes. Her flower gardens in full bloom were simply breathtaking – even to a young girl who was more interested in playing basketball and reading than she was with gardening.
Even before you walked onto Grandma’s property, you could view the flower gardens. The ditch by the road was lined with daisies, tiger lilies, iris, peonies, and Queen Anne’s Lace. (There are many that think of Queen Anne’s Lace as a weed, but not Grandma).
There were pots bursting in a multitude of colors in the front of the house on the deck, at the end of the house near the driveway, etc… They were simply everywhere.
Grandma’s Garden
Grandma did not do anything halfway. She was more of an ‘over the top’ type of person. This was absolutely the case when it came to her vegetable garden.
The garden itself was endless. I know this because if you were ever at Grandma’s house when she was pulling weeds, then you too were pulling weeds. (If Grandma was working and one of her grandkids was nearby, they were working too. It didn’t matter if they were two years old or twenty.)
The rows seemed to continue on and on. There were green beans, corn, cabbage, peas, lettuce, carrots, cucumbers, zucchini, more zucchini, and onions – you get the idea.
When I think of Grandma’s garden, I also can’t help but think about her soil. I never knew, until Grandma taught me, the importance of the soil for the plants. I guess I just thought dirt was dirt. Grandma would walk over to our house and scoop buckets of dirt out of our pasture. She would then mix it in with her soil so that her garden could have the benefits of the manure from the occasional cows we kept in the barnyard.
When harvesting time came, Grandma would start the canning process. I learned from Grandma that, when she was growing up, they didn’t have a lot of money. The food that you ate was mainly what you were able to grow yourself.
I helped my mom can vegetables as well. Hearing the pressure cooker ‘whistle’ is a memory that makes me smile, along with hearing the ‘pop’ when a lid sealed. We always had quarts of green beans, corn, and tomato juice on the canning shelves in the laundry room.
Popping Blossoms
One of my aunts used to own a few greenhouses. She sold hanging baskets, different flower pot arrangements, and flats/trays of vegetables and flowers.
One of my earliest memories of Grandma Rose is following her around from greenhouse to greenhouse. I couldn’t have been any taller than the benches that held the flowers. I distinctly remember the earthy, floral smell when you first open the doors and walk inside.
Grandma would place the hose nozzle on ‘shower’ and the water droplets were beautiful as they fell down to give the plants a much needed drink. I remember Grandma talking about the different kinds of plants and whether they preferred sunlight or shade. She showed us how to test the soil to see if a plant was thirsty or not. We learned a great deal by following Grandma along on the days that she went to the greenhouses.
I remember walking around and getting into trouble for taking my fingers and popping open the Bleeding Heart blossoms. I should have had my butt spanked, but I didn’t. To this day, every time I see a Bleeding Heart plant, I want to grab the beautiful little blossoms and pop them.
The coolest contraption at the greenhouse was this rectangle item that had spikes in the bottom. It seems like there were two layers to it. You used it to place on top of a tray that was filled with dirt. You pressed down on the top of the flat rectangle piece and the spikes were pressed down into the dirt, creating holes where you could then place the seeds. I searched for a picture on Google prior to writing this blog post, but was unable to find anything. I remember Grandma letting us press down on the wood to create the holes. We then helped plant tomatoes from tiny little seeds. It’s a good, strong memory.
The Love of Plants Continues
I’m not so sure that I am as enthusiastic for gardening as Grandma was, however I definitely have a love of plants. I enjoy surrounding myself with many different varieties, whether that is in my classroom or at my home.
When I was little, Grandma would say, “Here’s a shovel. Take some iris to your mom. Grab some lilies, too.” I would walk around the flower gardens with Mom and she would tell me which plants were from Grandma’s house and also where she got them.
My husband and I bought my family home. This means that Mom’s plants, as well as Grandma’s, are here with me. There’s a comfort to that, along with the responsibility to tend them.
Both my grandma and mom have since passed away, but the love of plants continues on with myself, as well as my son, Keegan.
I try and tell all of my kids different tidbits here and there about flower names, where they came from, etc… Hopefully, one day they will find comfort in some of the information and stories.
Goals for Today:
- Do Laundry
- Take a Walk
- Create a Vision Board