Rickfc's Blog

WHO'S TO SAY FOR SURE?
Jan 24, 2010 | 12:18 AM PST
Tags: memories , gardening , grandfather , flowers

 

 

All my life I have loved gardening, nature, and the outdoors, as far back as I can remember. Today I was looking at an old photo. It was a picture of my parents and me in my grandparents yard. I was just a baby. I hate to give away my age but the photo was from the early 1950’s. That yard is where I first saw beautiful flower and vegetable gardens, all created and planted by my grandfather.

My grandfather was one of those men that you don’t see much anymore. He made and repaired furniture in a building out back that he built himself, in fact he made some of his own tools. He was an artist, painted beautiful landscapes. Paintings that looked so real that you actually imagined being right there. Being right in the painting, standing under the tree or next to the stream. The painting that I have by him is one of my most treasured possessions. It’s a painting of an old dirt road winding into the woods. When I look at the painting I sometimes imagine that I am walking down that road, trying not to stumble in the ruts that the wagon and auto wheels made.

But I think what he was most proud of was being a gardener. My grandfather made beautiful gardens. As with his other talents, he was a self taught gardener. No big library of books, no fancy tools. He just knew how to be a gardener.

I remember watching him, following him around. Going from one flower to the next, like a honeybee. From one garden to the next. I was just a small boy but I remember filling up watering cans and watering some of the flowers. I remember the tin cup he had in the garden to drink from. And I can even remember the odd metallic taste of the tin cup when I put it to my lips. It’s funny how those things are coming back to me now.

He died when I was young but I wonder if he knows that I still think about those things. Who’s to say for sure?

Do any of you ever remember things like that? I hope you do. It makes you feel good inside.

The next time I look at the painting of his that I have, the painting of the dirt road winding into the woods I am again going to imagine walking down the road. Only this time I am going to imagine that my grandfather and my dad are down the road waiting for me. Maybe they are. Who’s to say for sure?

Best wishes, Rick

   My site - HERE      (you can see the photo of me at my grandparents when I was a baby there)