Gardener's Delights

Dad's Garden
When I was about five years old, we moved into a house with its own garden. This became my Dad’s pride and joy. I remember helping him to carry load after load of stones he had taken out of the ground in a large tin bath and dumping them. He used to spend most of his free time in the garden, planting bedding out plants, the cost of which he was always complaining about but his passion was his lawn. I have never seen a lawn as well looked after as my Dad’s. It was like velvet . A pale green colour. He treated it, mowed it and admired it. No one, this meant me and my Mum, was allowed to sit or stand on it we could only gaze at it from afar. If we should want to sit out and sunbathe, we would have to sit on the paving in front of the lawn.
Whilst I was growing up, I had no interest whatsoever in gardening and could never understand why anyone would want to spend so much time outdoors when they could be doing much more interesting things like playing snooker, watching t.v or listening to records.
Now, however, I too have the gardening bug, and spend a lot of my free time down the lottie growing veggies. My Dad, if he were still here, would be amazed and, I am sure, proud of what we have achieved in such a short time. He would also be pleased that I am making use of the tools he bought and that are still good after sixty years of use.