A couple of days ago I posted a picture of my Dad and I in his garden. Well, here is his garden...or I must say one of his gardens for he loved to garden and our house was surrounded by his gardens. To the north from the house were the vegetable gardens loaded with such wonderful things such as strawberries, raspberries, tomatoes (both yellow and red), cucumbers, potatoes, asparagus, onions, potatoes and on and on. To the south of the house and close to the highway was another vegetable garden and in that one I remember home grown corn.
The rest of the gardens were for pleasure. There was the rose garden for both of my parents loved roses and collected them. There was the gladiola garden with tons of varieties. There were zinnias, Johnny Jump-Ups, daisies, pansies, you name it and if it could grow in a northern climate...it was there.
These gardens were also a place of rest...on warm days...a shady respite. As you can see above the entrance gazebo was just that...an entrance to one garden after another.
As a kid I never appreciated these gardens for I was expected to help with them when what I really wanted to do was go swimming with friends...to go water skiing...to do anything but weed. Now in my mature years I look back and realize how lovely they were. Here in the crowded Bay Area of California...this space and these gardens would be priceless in more ways than one.
Dad definitely had a green thumb. My brother not so much...and myself a wee bit...so I look back with fond memories and tonight for a moment imagine sitting on the bench in this picture, listening to the birds, smelling the sweet smell of summer gardens, and knowing once again if for only a moment...that all is well.
The rest of the gardens were for pleasure. There was the rose garden for both of my parents loved roses and collected them. There was the gladiola garden with tons of varieties. There were zinnias, Johnny Jump-Ups, daisies, pansies, you name it and if it could grow in a northern climate...it was there.
These gardens were also a place of rest...on warm days...a shady respite. As you can see above the entrance gazebo was just that...an entrance to one garden after another.
As a kid I never appreciated these gardens for I was expected to help with them when what I really wanted to do was go swimming with friends...to go water skiing...to do anything but weed. Now in my mature years I look back and realize how lovely they were. Here in the crowded Bay Area of California...this space and these gardens would be priceless in more ways than one.
Dad definitely had a green thumb. My brother not so much...and myself a wee bit...so I look back with fond memories and tonight for a moment imagine sitting on the bench in this picture, listening to the birds, smelling the sweet smell of summer gardens, and knowing once again if for only a moment...that all is well.
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