by Angel Quinton

Created on: August 19, 2008   Last Updated: November 04, 2008

I ran down my grandparent's garden path, my Granddad sat in his usual place, on his stool, in the greenhouse, as I rushed in the familiar, welcoming smell of tomatoes, cucumbers and his beloved chrysanthemums filled the air.

Outside the greenhouse, the garden overflowed with roses, hanging baskets, herbs within an array of flowers. How I loved helping to water the flowers or watch as my Nan and Granddad potted pruned and planted. My mum used to admire the garden too, and they never tired of discussing the various plants and how well they were growing over a cup of tea.

A visit to the garden centre, with my grandparents and parents to buy new plants, experience all the scents and colours of flowers and foliage, was an enjoyable day out for all of us, a pleasure I still relish today.

When I was older and had my own house, my garden was the place for relaxing, planning where to put my next treasure. Planning which plants and seeds to buy next, harvesting the strawberries, tomatoes, and herbs, which tasted so much better than the shop brought ones.

I had my first child was born, the first of four, she sat outside with me in her bouncing chair if the weather was fine, observing as I potted up and grew the mass of colours which she loved so much. My son was born three years later and by now, his big sister was helping to put compost into pots and plant seeds and cuttings. He soon joined in, trundling around the garden with his little wheelbarrow with plant pots, treasures and stones. They both loved the greenhouse, and of course eagerly eating the rewards of our work, tomatoes, peppers, cucumbers, strawberries, blackberries and herbs.

It was a full ten years when my next child was born, a little boy, followed 16 months later by a sister, they both also loved the garden and took over helping with the planting and digging while their elder brother and sister were distracted by teenage interests, hopefully when they are older, like myself, they will renew their interest, in their own gardens.

My grandparents have long since passed away, but when I walk into a greenhouse and smell the welcoming smells, see the colours and textures of flowers, can almost taste the vegetables and salad. I can still see my granddad, in his tatty cap, sitting on his well worn wooden stool, with his radio and ever present cup of tea.

When I watch my children playing in the garden, I see myself playing in my grandparent's garden, and know how invaluable and rewarding this experience is. How pleasurable and relaxing it is, far more educational than the most expensive toy or latest gadget, with memories being formed that will far outlast those toys, and teach them to love gardening and nature forever.

The greatest gift to give children is the love of nature being outdoors and their garden; it is the gift of endless years of timeless pleasure, relaxation and love.

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