Thursday, 19 June 2014

The Armchair Gardener.

Following on from yesterday's post, in which I spoke of my father's love of nature and how much he taught me about it, it made me smile when some of you in your comments spoke of fathers being such good teachers for their offspring - and some of you said how your father had taught you about gardening.

My dad worked very hard, cycling to and from work (3 miles each way).   In the evening I would walk to meet him, pushing my doll's pram.  When we met, he would sit me on his cross bar and cycle, pulling the pram behind him for the rest of the way home (dangerous or what?).  After having his dinner he would do an hour in the vegetable garden, wash, get changed, walked two miles to his bowling club (with my mother and me in tow) and then play bowls on the crown green bowling green for an hour.  This left him little or no time for flower gardening.  But he loved the idea of it.

Today is a busy day for me, so I leave you with a poem I wrote a long time ago about him:

The Armchair Gardener.

Swathes of poppies,
banks of delphiniums,
frondy ferns and a
cascade of pools.

He planned it all from the
comfort of his armchair.
the golden dandelions
and a rash of purple thistles
painted their own canvas.


John "By Stargoose And Hanglands" said...

It sounds as though our fathers were cut from the same cloth. My dad always said the only flowers he grew were cauliflowers.

Linda Metcalf said...

Beautiful memories of childhood. It is so comforting to me to think of these times as a cherished childhood. Very calming.

Pondside said...

Sometimes your father's sort of garden is the very best sort.

MorningAJ said...

My Dad trained as a market gardener before he joined the Navy. Consequently he always worked our garden like an allotment. We never went short of fresh veg! But he kept an area for flowers too - chrysanths and sweet peas were his favourites.

Heather said...

Such a charming poem - I'm sure your father would have loved it. What energy he had to fill his days with so much. My father worked in London and travelled by train to get there. Weekends and summer evenings were the only time for gardening but he grew flowers and vegetables. His reward was when passers by would stop and admire the front garden.

angryparsnip said...

Lovely poem today.
You father had a very busy day.
My Father taught me how to change a tire, and mix cement to lay bricks.
My mother taught me everything else. But as hard as I try my garden is never as lovely as hers. She could plant a stick in the ground and it would grow.

cheers, parsnip

Elizabeth said...

Lovely poem!
I love the idea of you biking home with him.
I do think we have got almost TOO safety conscious nowadays.

My father loved feats of engineering - like 'crazy-paving' paths, mowing, chopping, sawing, putting up bird cages....
A little weak on the nurturing flowers part!
Hope the Farmer is feeling well?