Though the direct influence my Grandma Tysoe has had on my gardening story is certainly smaller than my Grandma Middleton, she none the less has played a role in my green thumb development. In fact as far as gardening skill goes, she is probably a better gardener overall. What she can do with a piece of dirt has consistently blown my mind as I have grown up.
Here are links to all other topics covered in the My Gardening Story series:
Summary and free ebook
My First Garden
Plants I grew up growing, Part 1
Plants I grew up growing, Part 2
Plants I grew up growing, Part 3
Starting Aussie Green Thumb: Part 1 – The Business
Starting Aussie Green Thumb: Part 2 – Starting the Blog
How I Became Aussie Green Thumb
I still remember when she took over renting a house that belonged to the church I grew up at. It was an old house with very little going for it. The gardens were tatty, having not been cared for in a very long time. In fact if ever I wish I had before and after photo’s of a garden make-over, it would be this example. My Grandma took what she had and made it into something very, very special. Every square centimetre had something. She mixed colours but in a way that worked. She used pretty typical cottage garden plants, but in such a way that the place looked so much more than a little cottage garden.
Within one year, a short time really in the gardening world, she had transformed that place into an amazing plethora of colour and fragrance. I remember people would walk into the church and comment how beautiful the cottage garden was looking. Not only did she pick up the garden beds that were already there but she made a few new ones. Quite simply, it was a garden spectacular.
When my Grandma decided to move out I remember my parents saying something about the church being dismayed. They knew they would not find somebody to live there who would do such a good job with the garden. If I remember correctly they even toyed with the idea of increasing the rent so they could employ someone to maintain it, though this may not be the case. But hey, I was only about 9 years old.
It is this sort of memory, this sort of experience, that inspires a young child to be a gardener. I hope that when I buy my first house I can grow a garden half as good as my Grandma Tysoe. And the fact of the matter is, this is but one story of her taking a patch of soil and making it something special. I could probably tell another 10 stories just like this of other places she has lived and absolutely transformed the garden. So though the one on one influence is smaller, the overall influence in my understanding of gardening is definitely there.