by Cara Dack

Created on: May 19, 2010   Last Updated: June 07, 2010

Grandma's Garden

They say that you realise your own mortality the day you first lose a parent, but for me it was the day I lost my grandma. As I wandered around her house in a daze on the day of the wake, my heart was aching for the little old lady who taught me so much about life. I crept up the stairs and into her bedroom, curling up into the tiny window-seat where we had shared many a bedtime story during the holidays and gazed out at the garden which was her pride and joy. From the sturdy fruit trees at the bottom, past the well manicured lawn hemmed in by neat little flower beds to the herb garden she had grown in a rockery by the back door. While watching all this I was transported back to my childhood.

It was the summer of my fourth birthday and I was in a foul mood, my older brother had got to go to a summer camp while my parents had deemed me “too young”. I spent days moping around until grandma took me by the hand and down to the bottom of the garden where the fruit trees grew,

“Now Elsie, we are going to pick some apples for a pie, can you help me?”

I sullenly agreed and we began to collect some of the apples which had already fallen and placed them in a large, wicker basket. When we had collected them all up grandma began to pick some of the apples from the tree,

“but grandma, those apples aren't ready to be picked yet,” I exclaimed, “they won't taste very nice, you know that,”

“I don't care if they are ready or not, I want to eat them now.”

“You can't have it now though, sometimes you just have to wait.”

Grandma turned at me with a glint in her eye and I couldn't help but chuckle. Together we went in and baked a delicious apple pie.

Several years later I was back at grandma's house and again I was unhappy. This time I had had a major falling out with some of my friends, one girl in particular was being very nasty to me. I sat by my grandma's side as she weeded her flower beds and poured out my little heart to her. She didn't say anything but handed me a trowel and asked me to help her. There was something therapeutic about pulling out all those weeds to give the beautiful flowers space to grow and I realised that when you are being choked in by something, sometimes the best thing to do is to just tear it out and give yourself room to breathe. The next day I told my nasty friend I never wanted to see her again, I spent several lonely weeks helping grandma in her garden before making a whole new range of friends who treated me well, friends I still have to this day.

As I approached the end of my uni years I was once again finding life somewhat difficult. School work was hard, I had a part time job that took up most of the rest of my time and I was constantly exhausted. This was the year that grandma planted her herb garden. I helped her place the fragile little herbs among the rockery,

“it's marvellous don't you think,” she said, “that something so beautiful and fragrant can grow in such a seemingly inhospitable place.”

“are you trying to teach me something again?” I asked, now wise to my grandma's lessons.

She smiled at me, “I know you are finding it hard right now, but soon the hard part will be over and you will be able to enjoy the fruits of your labour.”

I hugged her then.

Now, as I gaze out at the fruit trees that taught me patience, the flower beds that taught me strength and the herb garden that taught me endurance, I am grateful for the little old lady who helped me through life and I rub the growing bump remembering that new life replaces old and looking to the day I can teach my own child how to garden.

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