I am convinced that Grandmother Veal could make a brown stick sprout and grow. I spent hours at her house often in her flower garden—always glad to help. I guess she asked me to water her exquisite dahlias—-I don’t remember. I gladly did so, and every other chore that had to do with the lovely flora enveloping her yard and house. I wish I had paid more attention to other plant names, for now I only remember a few.
I remember the beautiful dahlias, gladiolus, Queen Ann’s Lace, and ligustrum she loved. Her care was year-round to see that flowers and shrubs bedecking the yard around her farmhouse. She—and as many of grandaddy’s “farm hands” as he would spare—managed to remake the landscape each season. It was spectacular. Grandmother did not try to make a cover of Better Homes and Gardens, she only went for the “look” she wanted.
I remember one project she convinced grandaddy to undertake—more accurately to hire built. In order to keep favorite perennials from freezing, she wanted a flower pit. I do not know whose design won. The result was a recessed concrete pit with tiered shelves to maximize sunlight to the plants. It’s covering was salvaged windows from houses grandaddy had repaired. The pit would accommodate her plants providing space, with access to sunlight during winter months.
Most, if not all of grandmother’s plants, were from cuttings a relative or neighbor provided. Grandmother would take a cutting and groom it in a fruit-jar of water in her kitchen window. When the cutting developed adequate roots, she potted it until it was mature enough to put in her flower garden. Today, when someone wants a flower or a shrub, a trip to a local garden center is the only planning needed.
I think there was something symbiotic about grandmother’s approach to her flower garden. That, I think, is why I have always believed she could make a brown stick grow into a lovely plant. She put her hand, heart, and soul into growing her plants and flowers. Grandmother paid attention. She tended their bruises and provided nourishment, access to air, sunlight, and water.
We human beings can, and often do, provide encouragement and growth to others and ourselves. We are born into community; at the most sparce level, a child has a mother and a father. Some have the benefit of a wider community. It is sometimes said that to grow a child, “it takes a village.” I know it did for me. I remember encouraging words and examples; I also remember corrections by relatives and neighbors.
There is a plethora of examples of successful people who were thought to have been “brown sticks.” However, under the influence of a caring community (thin or thick) they blossomed much like grandmother’s garden. In this life we have three great lasting qualities—faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.
© Copyright Willis H. Moore 2024
I am thankful I had a village to help raise me