OMy Grandfather’s garden
OIt was full of life, just as his heart. He used to put love in everything he did. That was probably the reason why anything he planted grew fruits. He hadn’t a very large space in which he could experiment. In fact, he had a few square meters on his front porch to plant what he could. However, I have never met a person who has achieved to grow up so many different plants. That garden went from chili peppers, Guayabas and avocados to watermelons, peanuts and papayas. I also remember his lemons. Those abnormally giant lemons. I had to use both of my hands to hold one of those, and everyone in the neighborhood loved them. I remember the smell of the leaves. “Fesi, you gotta smell this one, you can almost taste its fragrance”. Every leave smell exactly as the last one, but I loved to see how his eyes glimmer everytime he showed me a new one. He used to name his plants to give them personality, “Rosalinda” “Limostacio” “Chiliwin”. He really had a huge imagination. Talking with him was like talking with a boy. It was like he never lost his childish charm. His soul was as green as his plants. I remember him gardening with a big bright smile at the porch, singing Pedro Infante’s songs while his dark brown hair was getting wet with his sweat and his pants starting to get dirt.He believed that there was no plant too small or meaningless, and I think it was the same way he saw people. He helped everyone he could as the opportunity presented itself, always with an expression full of love and tenderness, and he never bragged about it. It was not until his funeral that we met a huge amount of people that promised to miss him almost as much as my family for everything he did for them. That’s when I realize that his garden went beyond his little porch. He sowed seeds in the heart of the people around him, and they grew up to become an inner desire to help others. He also inspired us to persevere when things are not promising, because “No plant gives fruits at the very first moment. If you want to see the beauty of a flower, you have to give it time, warm and care”.
Those are the reasons why my “tuto” is still by far my favorite gardener of all times.
My grandfathers garden:
The reader is transported into your grandfathers world of tender loving care as well as his gardening skills. A lovely poem recording the life skills of your grandad - it must be some consolation that many people that is neighbourghs thought the same of him. I like this piece of prose and it is so well written.
http://www.postpoems.org/authours/a.griffiths57