'The Garden'

Story ID:	1541
Written by:	Bonnie Jarvis-Lowe
Organization:	Retired RN/Freelance Writer and Photographer
Story type:	Family Memories
Location:	Falmouth Nova Scotia Canada
Year:	1989
Person:	Grampy Bud-a friend

The corner of a magazine sticking out from under a pile of sleeping, aged, ‘waiting room’ reading material captured my attention as I sat impatiently waiting for my appointment time. The green background of the magazine cover accentuated the bright orange color of flowers I remembered so well from my years in Nova Scotia. I gave the magazine a small tug and there it was-a seed catalogue of several years ago, but still full of rich vibrant colors of so many species of flowers, fruits and vegetables that bless our lives, grown by wonderfully gifted gardeners. It didn’t take too long for my eyes to focus on the big, orange, perfect petals of the ‘tiger lilies’. Although called by another name in the catalogue they were ‘tiger lilies’ to me, and they were called that by Grampy Bud and he was the best gardener I ever knew, so I’d go with his name, regardless of what any catalogue called them.

‘Grampy Bud’ and ‘Nan’ were not related to our family. They lived a short distance from our house, and their grandchildren were good friends of my son and daughter, and through them ‘Grampy Bud’ and ‘Nan’ became surrogate grandparents to our children whose own grandparents lived far away.

Nan would call my son, John, and tell him his fresh bread was out of the oven. He would jump on his bike and race to her house, devouring practically the whole loaf of bread on his way home. They were kind and generous to us, and we shared with them.

Bud had retired and was devoting countless hours to his garden, his favorite place to be. He was totally consumed with growing things, whether food or flowers. I was in awe of how a tiny piece of land could yield so much food, and thousands of beautiful flowers. He also had Hummingbird feeders everywhere and you could sit on his step and watch the little birds for hours while Bud worked quietly in his garden.

The rhubarb always started the spring run of goods, followed by peas, beans, squash, carrots, savory, chives and with it all the beautifully colored flowers which he seemed to be able to get to grow so prolifically. Tiger Lilies, Peonies, Roses, Tulips, Magnolias, just to mention a few. I was always attracted to the Tiger Lilies the most because as I rounded the corner near his house I could see the big orange lilies waving in the wind. It was a magnificent sight to see after a long day at work.

Autumn would bring the corn and pumpkins, but the in the middle of summer I would get my raspberries. He would have them placed in their little paper containers and would call me to say "Your favorite berries are ready."

I’d buy the frozen yogurt, and visit Grampy Bud to happily receive the raspberries, which I would promptly add to the yogurt, and enjoy the wonderful taste of two of my favorite things. Raspberries are at the top of my list in the berry family, and when Grampy Bud gave me half a dozen boxes I would hoard them, hiding them from everybody, and that always caused Grampy to laugh and say that I didn’t need to do that, lots of berries were still to be picked! He would laugh heartily at my ‘raspberry issue’, and my fear of not getting all I wanted.

Bud’s granddaughters were always pulling stunts on him, and my daughter would go right along with them. They would hide his garden tools, the lawn tractor, bags of fertilizer and anything they could to try to annoy Grampy. But it would just backfire because Grampy soaked in the attention he was receiving. Gary, his son, was the worst tease of all.

But Gary never won either! One day Gary, for some unknown reason, decided to plant tulip bulbs. He planted them at the end of his house and told everyone that he was ‘into the flowers like Father now.’

Bud stood back, as grandfathers do, rubbed his head and said "Well, well, well!"

A few days later Gary walked past where he had planted the bulbs and there was a row of tulips, in assorted colors. Grampy had made wooden tulips and painted them in vibrant colors, then placed them near each of his son’s tulip bulb spots. The whole village knew about the prank and Gary gave up agricultural pursuits for a time, that is until his tulips did really bloom.

The summers passed, the children became teenagers, the days of raspberries and yogurt, fresh bread and jam went on, but most of the time the kids were off on some other escapade, job or summer study course.

Then one very hot summer day Grampy stopped his gardening early and announced that he would have a smaller garden next summer. He was having a bit of pain he said, and not being one to complain, it was clear that something was very wrong. We convinced him to see a doctor, and he did. He never visited doctors for ‘check-ups’, and by the time he had the pain and did see a doctor, the medical investigation revealed that he had ‘Advanced Prostatic Cancer’. Everyone was devastated by the diagnosis, and Grampy repeatedly talked about how he should have seen a doctor before he finally did. Then he told every man he knew to get their ‘check-up’, such was his caring nature.

But it was too late for him. His condition rapidly declined, and in a few months he was gone, leaving the sea of beautiful Lilies waving their large orange petals as if to say ‘Good-Bye’ to their friend.

The garden looked deserted. Nan hung the Hummingbird feeders, and I still would stop by and sit on the step, watch the birds and discuss the issues of the day. Anyone there would talk about all the food that came from such a small piece of land, and the Grampy who had shared so much.

Everything was different now and always would be. We moved on with our lives, getting the offspring off to University, working, stopping for our talks with Nan as she was so lonely as the wooden tulips faded in the hot sun. But Gary’s tulips grew and were so attractive the next spring.

That autumn I noticed our daughter, on a weekend home from university, was wearing unfamiliar pyjamas. I had not seen these before and asked her about them because clearly they were a man’s pyjamas. She asked if I liked them, and I told her that I did.

"Well, Mom," she announced, "these belonged to Grampy Bud. Nan gave them to me after he died, still in the package they were. They make me feel good and bring me lots of good memories."

I was so surprised. It had been a year since her special Grampy had died.

"Remember his garden, Mom? And remember how he had all those Tiger Lilies you loved so much. You should plant some, you’ll feel better!"

I didn’t know that she knew I was not feeling well. I was experiencing deep sadness because just a year after his father’s death, Gary also passed away. It was such a difficult time for his wife, Becky, and Nan.

There was a surrealistic and unbelievable feeling that they were both gone in just a year.

It is many years later now. I think Heather still has the special pyjamas that make her ‘feel good’, even though when I last saw them they were threadbare.

I am living back in Newfoundland now. I saw enormous Tiger Lilies in a garden when I first came home, and this past summer our new lawn and area around our new house needed to be landscaped, with splashes of color placed here and there. I chose my flowers, the ‘Tiger Lilies’, first and foremost. No matter what name the seed book calls them, in my garden they are ‘GRAMPY BUD LILIES’. I have patches of them scattered about and I love them and the memories they bring forth.

Now I know it is true that to live in the hearts of others is not to die, as I remember with tenderness and gratitude the special ‘grandfather gardener’ that touched our lives and so willingly shared his ‘garden of life’.

Bonnie Jarvis-Lowe

Photos by Author with the exception of the Beautiful Raspberry shot which was taken by fellow Webshot Member Mandie Rose. Thank you Mandie!!