My grandma is a gardener. There is a square of dirt in her front yard that blossoms into colorful beauty every year. She has personally cultivated every plant from bulb to flower, putting in hours of nurturing care to see that they're brought to their full life and potential.
To me as a child, her yard was a sanctuary of fantasy-like charm, with ancient looking bird baths, decorative stepping stones, hypnotizing gazing balls, butterflies, birds, squirrels, and solemn stone statues to watch vigilantly over everything. Red and pink roses climbed the white siding of her house, using their green, ivy arms to pull them ever upward. My grandpa's bountiful tomato plants became home to a small family of bunnies. Lilac bushes lined the manicured, green lawn, filling the atmosphere with a heavenly aroma.
My grandma has never been one to shy away from work, knowing full well that effort today is required for a result tomorrow. I've seen that in many aspects of her life, from her garden, to raising her children, to learning how to play the piano as a grandma. Now that I'm a little older, I see and know others who also possess a love of gardening. What is it about this hobby that also makes them share this special, mysterious quality? My husband grows spices and tomatoes. My sisters plants flowers, and one time, a single ear of corn. I see it now, and I can agree with certainty. I heard someone say this once, and I thought, That must be it. Gardeners are people who believe in the future.