Yet, as someone who grew up surrounded by a wonderland of natural bush in a family of gardeners, the choice to stop cultivating plants and create a garden is not an option. My grandmother grew carnations and sold them at market to supplement the family income. I had not known this snippet of information as my Grandma had died long before I was born. My 80 year old aunt (her eldest daughter) happened to mention this fact in one of our precious chats. So now my imaginings of Grandma include an image of her bending over beds of carnations and breathing in their unique perfume as she worked. In the 1930's carnations grown for the cut flower market still had fragrance, which added to the joy of their frilled beauty.
I also have memories of my Grandpa (by then re-married to my much loved step-grandmother) growing a rampant wisteria across his front fence and my childhood bewilderment that these bunches of purple did not produce grapes to eat! And to add to this vision of colour, Grandpa's front lawn was studded with colourful freesias every Spring. A wonder for a small child to behold! Large shrubs of azaleas bordered this wonderland, providing a perfect hiding place from which to peep out at the world.
It's little wonder then, that for me the need to garden and create vistas of beauty with flowers, shrubs and trees is as innate as breathing. And it was this desire that was the impetus to years of study and doctoral research into the innate connection we feel for the natural environment.
Not that I recognised this impetus to study as coming from my family lineage of gardeners at first. Gardening had always been relegated to the borders of life; seen as pleasant but fairly unimportant in the bigger scheme of things. There were much more important things to be seen to; education, earning an income, getting married, having babies, getting a mortgage, building a home, and all the details of a busy life.
Of course, life gets in the way of plans! With a small, very sick child to care for suddenly the world shrank as his illness took precedence over other details. And gardening activities that had been pushed into the borders of our lives became important again. Suddenly it seemed a good idea to grow herbs and vegetables that were organic and nourishing. And gardening became an intermittent relief from the anxiety of looking after a very sick child, helping to calm my worried mother's mind.
As I gained more and more knowledge about growing herbs and vegetables, my interest in heirloom gardening deepened. I developed a love of heirloom herbs, their history and use which led to my love of heirloom roses and their place in history.
And through all this, I began to connect the sense of well-being I experienced with the therapeutic benefits of gardening. So began my career in designing and developing therapeutic programs for disabled adults, conducting doctoral research into the benefits for female inmates, drug addicts and other disenfranchised groups.
Little did I fully appreciate then that the legacy of my grandparents, one of whom I never met, has shaped my love of the natural environment. And it all began with a small garden filled with greenery, flowers and perfume and tended with love so that a small granddaughter could run and play and glory in its beauty.
A legacy worth leaving, don't you think!
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