I came as a bride to a new little bungalow set down in the middle of a barren plot. Even the topsoil had been taken away, The packet of zinnia seeds which I planted hopefully in the hard, gravelly ground came up scantily and then stood still in a dejected row.
“If I had just a little green spot to rest my eyes when I look out the kitchen window,” I said over and over again. My husband had always thought flowers were pretty and let it go at that. But to please me he finally set out to create that bit of green I longed for.
There was little money to spend on landscaping, so he turned to the native materials at hand and from the first seemed to have a knack for successfully transplanting from field, stream and woods the lovely wild things that grew in plenty nearby.
First, he made a tiny water lily pool, cementing the sides and bottom and placing around the edge the prettiest of our field stones. Then we planted low-growing flowers around the irregular circle. Into the pool went a waterlily and a cattail plant. Beside the pool we planted two slender wands of a fast-growing willow.
As we stood together surveying his work we both felt a glow of achievement. He had converted a bare, ugly spot into a miniature oasis, and I had converted him into a willing gardener.
That was the modest beginning of a hobby which has lasted through 20 satisfying years and which has filled every inch of our ground with growing things that give in abundance the contentment which has enriched our happiness as the years have gone by.
Mrs. E Hughes, SC – 62835
