The Parish by Alice Taylor

Author:Alice Taylor [Alice Taylor]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781847175939
Publisher: The O'Brien Press
Published: 2014-08-23T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 11

The Kind Garden

“Did you ever think of opening your garden to the public?” D.J. of our nearby garden centre asked me.

“What!” I gasped. “My garden is not good enough to open to the public.”

“Of course it is,” he insisted. “All people want is just to see someone else’s garden.”

“D.J., I could never get my head around that,” I protested.

“Well, think about it anyway,” he told me. “You’ve an interesting garden.”

If I had an interesting garden, it was not because of anything that I had done: it was simply that I had married into an interesting garden. Uncle Jacky had loved his garden and had created a peaceful haven that I had inherited. His garden had no set lay-out but had paths meandering through flower beds, drills of potatoes and rows of cabbage. His free-range hens scratched industriously wherever the inclination directed them, and our first beehive had sheltered under his apple tree. He would encourage anyone to be a gardener because he exuded his own love of it; his enthusiasm was infectious and he always had time to lean on his garden spade and have a leisurely chat. To me he was a real gardener because he grew food: he grew potatoes, vegetables, blackcurrants, gooseberries—in fact, almost all the food for Aunty Peg’s kitchen table, and he kept us and some of the neighbours supplied as well. I loved Uncle Jacky and I loved his garden.

When he died, it grieved me to watch his garden grow into a wilderness. Gabriel and I were too bogged down with children and the family business to take care of it. But sometimes late in the evenings after work I would stand at the garden gate and say to the garden and Uncle Jacky: “Some day I will get out here and bring you back to your former glory.” Gabriel kept the grass cut, but apart from that, the shrubs, plants and trees were left to their own devices. The boys had turned the lawn into a football pitch and the dogs thought that it was Shelbourne Park greyhound track. The daffodils and old roses alone survived the neglect, so in spring and summer we still had flowers for picking. In autumn we had a great crop of apples off the tree that Uncle Jacky had planted as a young man. People who plant trees leave a gift for the next generation and at Christmas time I was always grateful to him for his wonderful holly trees.

A garden behind your back door, no matter how neglected, is a blessing that enriches your house and kitchen table. It’s a pity now to see gardens being sold off as sites for second houses and neither house finishes up with a garden. We need gardens to nourish our souls and give us breathing space from each other, and to give children a place to play and let off steam. It is not outside the realms of possibility that in the future houses will be removed to give people back green spaces.

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