Backyards

Both my grandfathers were primarily responsible for the upkeep of the gardens.

Grandpa H.’s large generous back garden bordered on a river and it had numerous flower beds, a much smaller area with vegetables, a tool shed, a pump, a freshwater well, and manmade islands that we could row amongst in his lovely red rowboat. He kept numerous birdfeeders on the tree outside of the kitchen window. Every morning we would watch the birds feast. His garden activities were divided between the birds, the plants, and the water life. It was an enchanting place.

My grandpa B.’s backyard was full of fruit trees and it had a large vegetable garden. It boarded on a school playground. The school children would often creep under the fence and steal fruit (plums, peaches, and apples) from grandpa’s trees. During the hot sultry summer afternoons, adults whiled the hours away, sitting on the porch, drinking lemonade, and watching (or not) us children playing in the garden.

Sometimes we were allowed to bring out our grandmother’s big jamming pots and fill them with water and play in them. This only happened when we were small. Sometimes there were squishy squirmy caterpillars eating up all the leaves on the trees. Their nests were large, sticky, and grotesque.

Today's poem is about the magic of the waterside plants, Snakeshead Fritillaries. I like to think that there might have been some of these plants in the tall grasses bordering the river at my grandfather's back garden.