She is surrounded by flowers

“Dick was an avid gardener, spending just slightly more time working his garden than sharing the fruits of his labors, often leaving small bouquets of roses on doorsteps and office reception counters, as well as boxes of fruits and vegetables.” This was taken from the recent obituary of my first cousin once removed. His daughter had written it.
Once again, I am struck by how the love of flowers pervades this family. I met Dick a few years ago when I was beginning the never-ending search for ancestors.
The first time I pulled up to his house, I knew I was in the right place.
Not a blade of grass was in sight. The entire front yard was covered with a riot of flowers. Sunflowers guarded the house, while everything from irises to petunias filled in the rest. There were roses, tomatoes and who knows what else, all growing happily side by side. No weeds were in sight simply because there wasn’t any room for them.
He provided much valuable information in the time that I knew him. He and his wife had been teachers, a profession he continued after retirement when he taught English as a second language and also taught long-lost relatives about their roots.
It was from him that I first heard the story of the Swiss troubadour and the Italian princess who fell in love, escaped the wrath of her family by coming to America, and eventually gave rise to our families. This may or may not be true, but it makes for a good tale.
I wonder if either if them had an affinity for plants. Whenever I think of my mother’s Aunt Willmuth, it is not a freckled, red-haired woman who comes to mind. No. It is the plethora of plants in her yard. Unlike Dick, she actually had some grass in her lawn, narrow pathways, barely wide enough for a reel mower.
My grandmother’s house was enveloped by flora; layers upon layers of flowers surrounded the pink house. Foundation plantings and rows of blooming shrubs and berries surrounded the ample lawn. My mom’s house was similar. She didn’t have as many shrubs, but there were always flowers, inside and out.
One of my other cousins said that she would like to have some of Dick’s flowering plants to remember him by. His son said that would be good, as there was no longer anyone to care for them. He was taking his mom back to Florida to live with him. I assume that the house in Ohio will be sold. I’m guessing he didn’t inherit the green thumb, but I don’t know.
Tending to his plants and sharing them with others is just something that came naturally. I think most plant people enjoy sharing the fruits of their labors. We like seeing people smile as we approach with a bouquet. We even like watching them fidget, as they try to politely decline our offer of yet more excess produce.
Recently, a new friend called me with an offer of irises. I had overdone it earlier in the day and could barely move. Not only did this lady give me free rhizomes, she planted them for me! I was astounded and deeply grateful.
I wonder if she is a distant relation? Then again, most gardeners share everything whether they are related or not.
Whenever I meet a new long lost relative it seems that flowers are in the background. It is one of the threads that define our family.
Then again, maybe it is simply that I notice when someone shares one of my interests. Rest in peace, Dick, and may you be surrounded by flowers for eternity.[[In-content Ad]]