Only one word comes to mind for all 3 words…DAD.
My Dad loved to garden and our lot goes back about 300 ft to the river. There is a book on the shelf with notes and papers that he used to map out what the garden was going to look like. It is almost falling apart but I had to keep it because it’s the essence of my Dad. I have very little of his writing so this book is precious.
My Dad could be found out in the garden as soon as the ground was soft enough to work with until the first frost. He would be itching to go outside as soon as the weather warmed up. In the winter months he could be found in the basement doing woodworking.
My sister and I would be roped into helping him–mostly if he went to the garden centre so he could have an extra pair of hands. I hated going to the garden centre because most of the time there weren’t any people in the section that he wanted. My Dad was a person that was hard to buy presents for so I started buying him gift cards to the hardware store. He kind of thought it was cheating but at least I knew he always used it. Although there were times he forgot it in his wallet.
Cancer stole many things from him and one of those things was being able to garden. When he was undergoing treatment he couldn’t go outside because of the sun. He came home 2 months before he died and it was almost worse than being in the hospital because he didn’t have the energy to go outside but could see it out the window. I would go and pick some of the flowers and put them in a vase beside his bed. When my Dad died one of the hymns my Mom picked was “In the garden”. All 4 of us were bawling as soon as she started singing. In the eulogy the minister talked about our inside joke. Dad always said that we couldn’t do work on Sunday but one day I asked him how come he got to work outside? “That’s not work, that’s puttering”
Yep, that’s my Dad!