When visiting my grandparents at their home during the summers, I was always in
awe of the beautiful flowers Grandma had planted around her yard. She had a
variety of everything from hollyhocks and daisies to roses, and the most
beautiful hydrangeas I have ever seen.
The front of their home was a display of floral delights as well, with the large
lilac bush that sat nestled up against the side of the entrance walk. The main
street was lined with old Maple trees and one couldn't find a more picturesque
site in the area.
We were careful while playing in the backyard, because the flowers grew in all
their grandeur in her flower garden beyond the garage. The most fun we had over
this garden happened when I was older and a few years after Grandpa had his
stroke. He was still very active, and always planted his pumpkins, squash and
other vegetables behind the white picket fence, as Grandma's flowers took center
stage in the spacious garden with the bird bath.
I guess this one time, Grandpa decided he wanted to plant his onions someplace
else, and he did so, right among Grandma's prize roses. When those onions
started coming up, she never raised her voice...just told Grandpa he'd have to
remove them, her roses had taken that space for over 40 some years, and she
wasn't letting an onion patch take over at this point in her life.
Now Grandpa was always easy going, but since his stroke he had been a bit more
stubborn and didn't think he needed to get rid of his onions, infact, he was
quite definite about keeping them right among the roses. Since they were growing
up so nicely, he saw no reason to move them.
Grandma and Grandpa had celebrated over 45 years of marriage up to this point,
and I knew it wasn't because they couldn't get along. They were a loving couple
and I never heard a mean word come out of either of them.
Grandma always had beautiful flowers throughout their home and delighted in
caring for them. One day when I was visiting, Grandma was up town doing some
shopping, and as I stepped into the refreshing older home, glanced over at a
beautiful vase that held some flowers from her garden. I noticed Grandpa in the
kitchen, with the flower cutters in his hand. "These are just beautiful,
Grandpa..I know Grandma will like them in this pretty vase," I said. "Oh, she
always liked that vase the best, and she'll want to rearrange them herself," he
replied walking towards the back door. I wondered how many years he had been
cutting flowers for Grandma, it seemed as natural as breathing for him.
I walked into the kitchen, and there in the sink were some more items from the
flower garden. Grandpa's onions. I laughed to myself. He won't let her forget
his onions have a place in the house too. . That evening we had a wonderful meal
watching the sunset over the country acreage, still untouched by bulldozers and
progress. I told Grandpa that his onions sure tasted good mixed with the green
peas and potato cream sauce Grandma made. "Yep, your Grandma's the best cook
around. She makes everything taste good." He smiled.
I learned a lot that day. I realized when two people loved one another, there
was tender understanding. And when one has gone through some life changes, as
Grandpa had, my Grandmother realized how very important it was to make him feel
like he was still contributing, in his way.
So that was how they left it, roses and onions continued to grow in Grandma's
flower garden. A few years later when Grandpa left this earth for his residence
in Heaven, Grandma might have taken the onions out, but she didn't. It was her
way of remembering Grandpa's contribution. And no regrets about a marriage that
lasted 49 years. Because it wasn't about right or wrong, or even onions and
roses, but about a special love for one another.
© Diane Dean White, 2001 Thelamb212@aol.com
Diane is a former newspaper reporter and freelance writer. She and her husband
Stephen are the parents of three grown children and two grandgals. They make
their home on the Carolina Coast where Diane continues her love for writing.
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