But Grandma didn't just grow roses. She and Grandpa had an amazing vegetable garden that is unrivaled by any other garden I've seen to this day. They grew everything from sweet corn to dill. Cabbages to asparagus. Raspberry vines climbed the fence on the east side of the yard. (My sister was particularly fond of those. Grandma made delicious raspberry jam.) It was a feast for the eyes and the taste buds! I specifically remember the many times I helped Grandma harvest the asparagus. Armed with a paring knife and a pail, I would carefully navigate the patch losing my rhythm only when Grandma yelled, "Be careful, Aimee! You're squashing some!" I liked being her special helper, digging deep into the soil to unearth the tender purple and white spears. Those were always the tastiest.
Grandma's home cooked meals were the best. Ingredients usually included produce from her garden, and she always knew just what I liked. Cucumbers and mashed potatoes were favorites of mine. She'd soak cucumber slices in salt water next to the kitchen sink. A bowl for her and a bowl for me. I'd sneak into the kitchen and grab slices from her bowl, never wanting to deplete my own precious portion. I can still hear her voice echo in my head. "Aimee, don't eat anything. You'll spoil your dinner!" Grandma, in all the years that have passed since your stern warnings, I have never managed to spoil my dinner. My gluttonous appetite has prevailed. You would be so proud.
I believe those early childhood memories of her garden fostered a love of gardening in me that has only grown with time. I think of her often as I tend my own little patch of earth. A hobby that may have been born out of her own necessity has become a labor of love for me.
