My family became boarders in my great-grandmother’s humble Alabama home when I was around the age of three. Work was hard to come by for my father in the late ‘fifties’. I do not think my parents ever thought those years to blessed, but I am very thankful to God that I was given the opportunity to grow up knowing Ruth, otherwise known as little granny.
My little granny, who stood four feet, nine inches tall in her stocking feet, introduced me to gardening as soon as I could hold a watering can. Ruth was particular about who she would allow into her garden. Every seedling, growing plant, or shrub was a living thing that was treated as well as any person she knew. I was privileged to accompany little granny on her daily rounds as she inspected, watered, fertilized, and ultimately harvested the vegetables. Her flowers were another story.
I can still see in my mind’s eye the Asters, Marigolds, Zinnias, and roses that grew so tall and bloomed all summer. My favorite flower was her Chinese Wisteria that entwined a tall oak tree beside the driveway. When in full bloom, the fragrance blended sweetly with the wild honeysuckle that grew on a neighbors fence. How I loved those summer nights, lying next to little granny in her huge old poster bed after we had said our prayers. With the bedroom window open, the flowery perfume rode the breezes into the bedroom as granny told me stories about Queen Elizabeth II, a distant relative and then current pen-pal.
Ruth had a porch that extended the front of the house. On either side of the porch steps grew hydrangea bushes. These flowers were my granny’s pride and joy. They were decades old when I was five and they were magnificent. Each bush mirrored the other in size and blooms. I can still remember how the blooms were bigger than the grapefruits we often had for breakfast. I did not understand at the time, but granny would feed her bushes so the blooms would be pink one year and blue the next. Although pink is my favorite color, I will never forget the blue hydrangeas.
My older sister Deb, and I would play on the front porch every opportunity we saw. We played house with our dolls, drank from our play tea sets, and hopscotched with the help of school chalk long before sidewalk chalk was ‘invented’. Sometimes, Deb and I would get a little upset with each other, as siblings are bound to do, and a fight would ensue. A particular fight resulted in my surprised landing on granny’s hydrangea bush. Deb
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