My parents bought their first and only home in the early 1950s. It was to that house I was taken as a newborn baby, and it was from that house I moved out in the early 1980s when I married.
My dear Mom planted all kinds of things — but usually, the ordinary garden must-haves: geraniums, tulips, and I suspect she may have been the one who planted crocus. I especially remember the crocus that were some of the earliest bloomers, sometimes up through a dusting of snow. Here she is doing a little gardening with her youngest granddaughter.
My Dad loved wildflowers — he made a rock garden along the side of our neighbor’s garage. He filled it with wildflowers: Bloodroot, Trillium, Jack-in-the-Pulpit, Lily of the Valley, ferns, and hostas. In addition, we had a patch of rhubarb that he would occasionally cut for me, which I thought a great treat. As the picture demonstrates — he also loved feeding the birds.
But like Ron, Dad loved Roses. One time at a rather scary cost. We had some beautiful yellow roses at the side of our house. Dad was cutting some to bring inside when he had a run-in with something, we suspected a spider. We first noticed it after he came into the house and rolled up his shirt sleeves. There was a nasty red line running from a cut in his hand clear up his arm. We took him to the hospital, where a doctor dealt with the venom. I suspect he was a little more careful after that.
But despite the occasional mishap, it is wonderful to have a little taste of heaven on earth. It is lovely to have a home filled with flowers. When you have planted and tended them, it is even sweeter. Thank you, Mom, Dad, and my dear Ronnie, for all the beauty you brought into my life.