memories of my Fathers garden

It is strange how smells and sounds can bring back memories .I was walking through Botanic Gardens in Dublin when memories of my fathers garden in Cabra  came back to me and I wrote them down.

                                                                  My Fathers Garden

  The old house in Cabra  holds  many happy memories for me  but the heart of my childhood  lies my fathers garden. The garden was a special place because  it was    here that my father could always be found in good form. The garden was somewhere my Dad was at peace and it was somewhere you could come and talk to him about any problems you had ,you always knew dad would listen.If he was weeding the garden we knew to stay away as he often took his anger out on the weeds pretending they were someone’s head as he pulled and bashed at them.

The house was built in the 1930s but has been home to four  generations of my family at different stages .Over time the garden has seen  many  changes and served many functions .My grandfather, a very practical and self sufficient man, as was his generation out of necessity,  grew vegetables and reared chickens  here to provide food for the table.But to my father it was his kingdom, it was part of who he was and contained  a part of all our lives and every plant had a story to tell. In either corner of the back wall stood  two large lilac trees  bought for each of my brothers as small  children ,these trees grew with us and provided a den for us to play in during the long summers,there where rose bushes bought to honour various occasions such a white rose for my first holy communion and a peach one for my confirmation and a red  one to mark the day I was  married.  Behind the wall  stood  a huge redbrick house with many chimneys  called  Beggesboro House . This house  was always a source of fascination to me and I imagined it was a castle and  a King lived there and often watched out my bedroom to see if I could catch a glimpse of the King.One day with  great disappointment I discovered  the manager of the local shop owned  house not a monarch . From the lilac trees either side of  the wall ran a line of  flower beds  providing a cacophony of bright vibrant  colours and smells and which provided a home for a multitude of wildlife.  The flowerbed was a riot of colour in the summer,there where pink and red fuschia dancing like ballerinas on their stalks ,there was vibrant  pansy’s and orange and sunny yellow mimulas with monkey like faces always smiling at you and of course the regal lilies which bowed their heads as you passed by them .Enclosing the cascade of bedding plants was a deep green perfectly manicured box hedge and in front was a sloping garden path leading past a row of granite rocks which shimmered when the sun shone on them.The little hill proved a great ramp for toy cars and bikes and made a great slide in the frosty weather. But the pride of my fathers garden was his luscious green lawn lawn ,many a evening after work he spend pushing his lawn mower back and forth through the lawn till it was to his satisfaction .The left side of the garden was another row of box hedging in front of which stood dads prized dahlias  blowing like coloured spiders in the breeze .

  As the years moved on the garden saw many changes including the building of a new kitchen extention and  raised patio.The patio contained    two lavender bushes with  chairs  on either side  , this was my dads pride and joy and a place where he sat surveying his kingdom and where Mam loved to sit reading her books.The grey back  wall was now  hidden by a wooden shed which provided many hours of fun as a playhouse for his beloved Granddaughters while visiting .

  I saw how much pleasure the garden gave Dad and decided to share his hobby,he was my mentor and guide but gave me a free reign and a patch to plant what I wanted and I graduated to a flower bed of my own.

  More precious than the garden was the time I spent here with my dad ,he taught me everything I know about gardening  but at the same time he  taught me many life’s lessons.

  In order for a garden to grow and flowers to bloom, it must be nurtured,this holds true for many important aspects of life as well. If we want strong and lasting relationships with others, we must tend to those relationships through spending  time  nourishing  and    cultivating positive interaction with them, we will then be rewarded  with a  beautiful blooming friendship. My dads garden was a place you could go if you were angry or sad  and knew you would find peace among the memories ,it was a place where we had lots of fun and laughs.In the garden  I learnt about nature ,the names of the various birds and the names of the plants  but the most precious thing cultivated in my dads garden was the very precious  relationship between a father and his  daughter.

                               

                                                                  In memory of my Dad