Gardening...Good Psychology

My father grew the biggest garden in the neighborhood, propagated magnificent camellias that lined three paths winding through the side yard, and tended mound after mound of azaleas. About this time of year in Columbia, SC, cars lined the street in front of our house as people came to see his flowers. Most Sunday and Saturday afternoons in the spring, Dad proudly held court in "his" yard as eight or ten people "came to see the flowers." Many came to see the head-high camellia bushes in late February when they were in full blown and laden with blossoms. Dad most certainly sent admirers home with a few glorious blooms. On Sunday mornings before church, he'd pop open his well-sharpened pocket knife cut my mother a perfect bloom to pin on her coat. The oohs and ahhs at the First Baptist Church made us all proud.

Frank Sims could be found in his oasis every day after work and any weekend he was not hunting for rocks and minerals and Indian arrowheads. That activity was mostly carried out near Franklin, North Carolina between April and November. Nevertheless, our side yard was his "get away" when he couldn't get to the ruby mines of North Carolina. "It's a good place to get away...to think," he'd say. "I've always been happy outside."

And, we had flowering fruit trees, daffodils, a few daisies that held on for years, and my mother's favorite patch of iris that bloomed in deep purples, light violets, pinks, and yellows. There were patches of purple and white thrift near the front walkway and all surrounded with stunning azaleas. Dad planned his vegetable garden months in advance. He liked getting a head start on planting, so he gathered abandoned building supplies, including bricks and glass from a demolished building and constructed a green house thirty years before the term "recycling" was used in casual conversation. After getting his seeds going in the protection of the glass house he planted lettuce in cool weather and then planned where he would put corn, beans, squash, cucumbers, peppers, and tomatoes out by the back fence near the clothes line. The hymn, "All Things Bright and Beautiful," said it all.

Dad didn't care much for growing roses. He said that we didn't have the right soil. Therefore, roses were relegated to the side of the tall block and brick wall that separated our property from the neighbors. But the Peace roses were so hardy they held on and bloomed year after year.

The house built in 1940 passed on to someone else when Dad died and Mom moved to North Carolina to be close to her grandchildren. I haven't seen the place in years. But I think of the pink double-flowered dogwood tree that Dad grafted from a scion he got from a friend. Then, there were three single white dogwoods and numerous flowering fruit trees--apple, pear, and peach. The grape vines on the arbor sprang to life in spring, as did everything else luscious and edible.

Our area of North Carolina is too cold for camellias. How I miss them. But I purchased a Peace rose a few of years ago. And, every February since, I look forward to receiving the Jackson Perkins rose catalog. When my husband asked what I wanted for my birthday three years ago, I said, "A Veteran's Honor rose bush." The first year's flowers were so magnificent, I bought a second one. Now, I have a backyard full of roses.

It has taken years for me to focus on planting, weeding, and fertilizing. I didn't inherit my father's "green thumb," but I did acquire his interest in getting away to the garden...a good mental outlet.

Comments

[Laura All]

Hi Lynn,
This wonderful post reminds me of my own dad and his amazing garden in the upstate of SC. He taught horticulture and agriculture for several years before going into school administration, but his love for all things flowering and edible has only grown through the years. Last year was the first year he could remember that his large vegetable garden didn't really amount to much (he blames the drought). I am a bit challenged when it comes to my own plants (my husband calls me "the black thumb"), but I am going to keep at it, and hopefully one day I'll have a blossoming refuge, too.
It's hard to pick my favorites of his flowers, but the enormous oak leaf hydrangea and the cream and pink angel trumpet have to be near the top.

[tiffany1837co]

bangle
Tiffany Somerset
Tiffany 1837 bangle
Tiffany 1837 ring
tiffany key ring
Tiffany Money clips
Money clips
Tiffany Keys
tiffany pendants
tiffany i love you ring
tiffany1837jewelry
tiffany1837co
tiffany jewellery
tiffany1837online
t925silvertiffany
iloveyou925
925tiffanyco
925tiffanyblog
925jewelryblog
925royaljewelry