by Gary Wright

Created on: November 12, 2009   Last Updated: December 03, 2009

As is true for most of us in the late 1950's, we had gardens on our property. My Dad would usually consolidate his garden with that of my Grandparents, my Mom's side of the family they were known as Grammy and Grandan.

I remember Daddy so intense while weeding and mounding and creating those long troughs of dirt. I had no idea, at that age, why he did any of it. Oh, I knew when it was time to pick the stuff they grew, that everything was just right. Fresh, delicious whether it was eaten right there in the middle of all that scrumptiousness where the plants grew or inside where it was cleaned and trimmed and cooked or cut up; tossed or used as an ingredient for something else...it was all good!

When the gardens were laid out, I recall no plan talked about, but as each and every type of vegetable took form and showed its true nature, the layout of - and the reason behind every carefully placed plant was understood. Certain things had to be in certain light at a certain time of day at a certain season; there had to be so much room between each prospective vegetable that was in a row and some rows when north/south, while others went east/west or whatever.

The flower beds were the most interesting for me, because my Grammy would take me out and let me play in the garden with her. She dug holes and put things that looked like onions in them all and told me they would be a bunch of different things when they bloomed. How all those hyacinths, daffodils, tulips, gladiolus, crocus, bluebells, peonies, and iris knew what they were supposed to be when they grew up was a puzzle to me.

They all started out looking very much the same. Mother Nature is truly very smart to make those onion-looking things all know what to do when they bloomed so they could be recognized.

Grammy was sweet and gentle. She smiled a lot. She smelt good too. I can remember her earthy clean fragrance. She always wore a calico dress and heavy looking shoesthey were especially used for gardening; her favorite apron was on, no matter what else she wore. It turned out she had a lot of aprons, but as a 5 year old boy, I thought they were all the same one.

Grammy's hands were strong but smooth, they did good work, and they held you nice when you walked with her. And she knew everything. What ever I asked, she had the right answer for it.

We were out on an early Spring day once. Living in Washington State, it was a rainy time of year. The rain is what made everything so very green and the

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